


Silver Lining

by PrydonianAlchemist



Series: Figment [1]
Category: Original Work, The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde - Robert Louis Stevenson
Genre: F/M, Gen, M/M, Multi, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-13
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-04-24 20:46:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 30
Words: 78,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22236721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrydonianAlchemist/pseuds/PrydonianAlchemist
Summary: Rilon Arlett, the heir to the Presidency, continually hides behind a facade of lies. He hides secrets too big to be exposed to the world. With the death of his father due to his mistakes, his secret is thrust into the spotlight, and with his brother continually questioning him at every move, he may have to hide something bigger than himself. It may be a secret that warrants him undesired attention.
Series: Figment [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1600654
Kudos: 2





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> So this is also on the Rogue Animal website and Tapas as well, but I may as well post my work here because I may as well be more active here.

It felt like falling, like that sudden adrenaline rush from a dream-death, that sense of euphoria just before you wake up. It felt like…  _ living. _

He felt alive. That’s what it was. So free, so new.

Opening his eyes to see for the first time was a new experience in itself. But, he noticed that something was wrong then. It was so dark… pitch black. Abysmal.

Could he speak?

He decided to test out his theory.

“Hello?” Cliche, he knew, for a first word. No response. He tried again. “Am I alone?”

_ Should I know you?  _ The voice brought his feet onto the firm ground below.

“Should I know  _ you _ ?” He echoed.

_ I guess… We may be the same, anyway. The same person? _

“The same…” The figure murmured under his breath. “The same.” Malice then laced his tone. “No,” He snarled. “We’re not.”

He clasped his hands together — hands he never knew that he had. “We’re not the same.”

_ How so?  _ Prompted the voice.

“They know you.” He replied. “They don’t know me. Not for anything. I’m too new.”

_ Do you want to be noticed?  _ The voice was strangely empathetic.

He gave it some thought. Finally, he said, “Yes, I would like that.”

Suddenly, the darkness lifted. The first thing the figure looked at was his hands. They were nearly as pale as a ghost. He pulled a lock of hair in front of him. It was as black as ink.

He got some sudden rush of extreme emotion. Fear, exhilaration..? He wanted to know, but he couldn’t. 

_ What else do I look like?  _ He wanted to know that. At least that.

He lowered his hands as a new figure approached. He looked up to meet the other in the eye.

They were a new color. What were they? 

Green. A beautiful emerald green. That’s what they were. But what color were his? He wanted to know more.

The hair color on the figure was much harder to tell. Was it black like his? Was it silver? The light shone so brightly onto it that his brain couldn’t figure it out.

_ You’re new. _ The figure tilted his head, and his hair fell about his shoulders, messy as if he had not slept in days. The crimson nightgown he wore gave away that he must’ve recently been sleeping, possibly for the first time in forever.  _ Do you have a name? _

He shook his head. “No.”

The man held out his hand, offering for the figure to take it.  _ Do you want one? _

Reluctantly, he nodded. “I would.”

The man lowered his hand.  _ What is your choice then? _ His eyes were full of questions.

Again, the figure thought, harder this time. So many new thoughts, new words, new feelings came to his mind. A name came to him, somewhere, nearly hidden deep within some memories he never knew existed.

“Hyde,” He said. “Edward Hyde.”


	2. Chapter One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rilon receives a rather rude interruption to his morning.

Rilon had always loved watching the sunrise.

Ten stories up, holding himself precariously over the balcony railing, both feet off of the ground. It brought some dauntless euphoria that made him feel unstoppable.

Breathe in, breathe out slowly. Release the tension, bring in the calm. Don’t pay attention to the city hundreds of feet below, pay attention to the mountain range miles away. Just the perfect view to clear his mind, perfect view to take his mind off of the possibly hectic day ahead, perfect view for -

A knock at the door came from back inside. Rilon slid back down onto the steady ground and bade the sunrise goodbye.  _ Maybe another day. _

The knock came again, harder. Rilon growled under his breath, heading inside.

As he shut the balcony door, the knock came a third time.

_ Impatience..? Oh, it’s Asiah alright. _

He switched the lights on. The unnatural brightness that came with it nearly gave Rilon a headache. It wasn’t the same as the sunrise.

“Ri, if you don’t get your ass up, I’ll break down this door.” A fourth knock accompanied the threat.

“I’m coming. Don’t get your hair in a knot.” Sighing, Rilon ran a hand through his hair, tangled into a near-eternal bedhead from a restless sleep. He growled when his hand caught upon a particular snarl, and flinched when he attempted to get it free.

_ Christ, why does my hair have to be so… long? _

He shook his head, waving his hand dismissively.

_ I ought to get myself a mirror. That would help my…  _ He yanked at the tangles in his hair.  _ Pathetic excuse for hair. _

“I beg to differ.”

“Shut up, Asiah.”

There was a grumble from behind the door. Rilon rolled his eyes, plodding across the room to the door.

Of course, it was Asiah that he first saw when he opened the door. Who else could have father’s jet-black hair, amber eyes, plus, who else did he have to take care of him when his father did not?

“What do you want?” He groaned, rubbing his eyes, forcing them into focus. “What warrants my attention at such an early hour?”

Asiah shot him a look and frowned. “Get dressed. Father needs you in the Main Room by sunrise. Oh, but look, you’re late already.’

“You can shut up. Just, please.” Rilon shut the door abruptly, right in his brother’s face.

“ _ Your bedhead makes you look like a creep!”  _ Persistent, Asiah pounded on the door. It wasn’t going to get him anywhere, plus it would just make him look like an idiot to any passerby in the halls. So, Rilon did what he usually did; he ignored him, ruffling his hands through his hair, grumbling multiple foreign curses under his breath.

Eventually, the pounding stopped — Asiah had grown tired.  _ Or he broke a finger… again…  _ Rilon listened for footsteps dragging themselves away from the door, but there were none. He narrowed his eyes. Asiah was planning something.

“You better not.”

“You bet I am,” Asiah replied. There was a hint of mischief in his tone. “I’ll get you back for that… with a rather rude greeting.”

_ I’ll show you a rude greeting once I’m done.  _

“I heard that,” Asiah growled back.

“Sure…” Rilon went back to the balcony door but hesitated as he gripped the handle. He listened for the faint sound of footsteps leaving once again. There weren’t any.

He stood in silence for several moments. Rilon noticed — and subsequently felt — his hands begin to shake. Anticipation, fear maybe?

He heard Asiah shuffle to get onto his feet. Instantly, his hand gripped the handle tighter. 

“ ** _Frei_ ** !” 

Startled, Rilon yanked the door open but miscalculated himself. It instantly hit him right in the face, hard.

So thus, Asiah was greeted with a scowl. “Tell father to fuck off and leave me alone for once. Does he know that I have a life other than just being his heir?”

Asiah was trembling, knotting his fingers together and tried to hold them in front of his face. “Th-those exact words..?”

“Yes.” Rilon slammed the door. He looked at his shaking hands and saw a small blot of crimson on his palm. He wiped his nose, and more red came off onto his hands. 

_ Stupid door. Stupid brother. _

“Did I mention that your nose was bleeding?”

“Noted.” Rilon snarled at the door. “ _ Now please go. _ ”

As the footsteps retreated away into the corridor, Rilon went to clean himself up.

To his dismay, his hands still trembled when he reached the Main Room, three floors down. Not only that, but they also seemed to have gotten worse. He ran them through his hair to help rid himself of his anxiety, but when he looked at them, they were still trembling. A loud sigh escaped from his mouth.

_ I hope I’ll get out of something… _ At least he could smile at that. With a loud sigh to himself, he pushed the door open.

To be expected his father — President Lear to be more exact — was there, sitting on some sort of throne. 

Lear was not a small man, nor was he tall. He may have been the former in his youth, or so nearly a decade ago, but the stress of raising two sons on his own put a toll on him. His silver-black hair in addition to his stature was proof of that.

A shiver ran through Rilon. His father may not have much time left in him. The anxiety that he would soon sit on that throne in place of his father was enough to make his heart race.

Nevertheless, he calmed down and closed the door behind him before he could forget. “Did my brother say anything?”

Lear hesitated for a moment. “Some very… colorful language, and then he left.” He sat up straighter. “Is there a reason?”

Rilon shook his head and rolled his eyes.  _ Of course, he’d say something like that. _ He took in a loud breath to steady himself again, crossed his arms, and strode further into the room.

His father sat up from the chair, walking over to the large window, which basically covered an entire wall and overlooked the city as well.

“Come here.” Lear appeared listless, staring out onto the city, fiddling with his hands, which were clasped behind his back. “I need to speak with you, Rilon.”

Expecting a long lecture, Rilon reluctantly walked over to stand next to him. He followed his father’s gaze out onto the city.

It was calming to look down at the movement in the city, especially this early in the morning. People were heading to work for the day, children were heading to school, groups were gathering on the streets for a quick chat or lengthy debate. Rilon smiled at that thought.

All of this happened while Rilon kept himself hidden within the walls of the Capitol Building. He was always afraid to admit that the last time he left the building — of course, with that one exception of University — was a little after his tenth birthday, seven years ago.

He just couldn’t bring himself to go outside, to the place where  _ it  _ happened. The place where he kept denying to himself, over and over, that it never happened, that someone else may have witnessed it and not him alone.

It brought a strange comfort, reassurance, nearly instantly. Rilon took his hands and stared at them. Reassurance didn’t seem to help his nerves any, though. His hands still trembled with anxiety.

It was several minutes before anyone spoke. Not surprisingly, it was Lear who broke the silence.

“You’ve got to get outside; enjoy the air.” Rilon wasn’t paying attention, but he was sure his father was staring straight at him, amber eyes burning into his skull. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his frock coat.

“It would help those nerves of yours.”

Rilon sniffed. “What nerves?” He laughed humorlessly and shrugged. “And what’s the use of going outside? There’s plenty to do in here.”

Yet, as he stared outside, he felt a strange mix of feelings. Euphoria, dysphoria… discomfort. Rilon turned sharply away with an audible gasp.

“There’s a reason I don’t go outside,  _ Lear. _ ” He snarled but didn’t speak further.

True, standing outside on the balcony was tolerable. It was at least a hundred feet up, and no people would come to bother him. In the city, something could happen to him… something terrible, like what happened with - 

He flinched away from the thought.  _ I can’t go outside. _ Somehow, if he only took one step outside, he’d get sick, or panic. He’d learned that the hard way nearly two years ago.

“ I could close the windows for you.” Lear, clearly seeing Rilon’s distress, placed a hand on his shoulder. Rilon kept himself from flinching, shaking his head. “ _ Nein,  _ er, no… No. I’m fine. Just thinking.” The reassurance was hardly audible.

Lear moved away, leaving Rilon to stare outside again.

Leaving him with some longing to  _ be  _ outside once again.


	3. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some days, you just need time to relax and gather your thoughts.

“Dear Lord, what happened to you?” Leaning against the wall was Asiah, arms crossed casually, relaxed. How calm he looked greatly contrasted to Rilon’s anxiety. It made him feel self-conscious — too much so.

“We just talked, it’s-” He started.

“About what? Death?” Asiah interrupted, much to Rilon’s annoyance.

“Just talked… It’s nothing that you should worry about.”

“But _ was _it about death?”

“No,” Rilon crossed his arms, attempting to walk away from his brother. “I need to gather my thoughts, Asiah.”

_ I need to gather my thoughts. _

Rilon shut the door to his room, heaving a loud sigh. He locked it, and that was hardly enough to make him feel secure.

He couldn’t gather his thoughts. Not at all.

He crossed the room to his dresser. 

A drawer caught his eye, one that had not caught his eye in years. He pulled it open.

Inside was a leather-bound journal with a pen lying beside it. Rilon picked up the journal and flipped to the first nearly empty page.

The last date, he noticed, was a bit more than two years ago: his fifteenth birthday. 

_ “January 1st, 2655 _

_ Couldn’t go today. Nerves prevented me from writing properly. Please _

_ note that I nearly threw up today. Not the best experience. _

_ -16:25, Rilon Emrys Arlett.” _

He picked up the pen, clicking it open, writing on the next line, speaking as he did so.

_ “July 18th, 2657 _

_ It happened again. _

_ -09:27, Rilon Emrys Arlett” _


	4. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Siblings can be a pain in the ass, can't they?

‘“‘_And so, with the downfall of President Enmilia, Lear Frei remained_ -’ Excuse me, but why am I reading a children’s book again?”

A large book was slammed before Rilon’s face, atop the papers on which he was working. He leaped back, startled, almost stabbing the quill he had been working with into his hand. “I was keeping you busy.” He said, smiling to himself to keep himself calm. “You are my younger brother, after all.”

“By ten months. _Ten months_. That doesn’t make me a child. An Irish Twin, more like.” His brother crossed his arms, scowling.

“_Irish twin… does anyone use that term anymore_?” Rilon echoed in his first language, aware that his brother could understand either way — even if it was broken to him. He slouched over, tapping the quill’s feather lightly on his lips. “_Some days, you do seem like a child_.”

Luckily, Asiah hadn’t heard the comment, so Rilon sat up straight again.

Not surprisingly, Asiah was rifling through his cabinets, on the other side of the small room.

Rilon cleared his throat. “_Excuse me_!” He shouted. At the exclamation, Asiah leaped in surprise and fell to the floor with a crash. “Just what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Not getting up from the floor, Asiah whimpered, “Do you have any food in here?”

“Well, yes, I guess I’m a cook, so I guess you can look — _I’m a fucking doctor, do you expect me to have food in here_?!” Rilon brought a hand to his face, heaving a sigh.

_Why are you even related to me? _He muttered, mostly to himself, pulling at the hair tie which had been keeping his ponytail in place. He fixed it quickly, glaring at his brother.

“Everyone has food in their apartments,” Asiah stood, bracing himself back against the counter top. “But not you.”

Rilon didn’t need to reply to that. There wasn’t a need, anyway. Who_ever _feels like they had to reply to comments like that?

He sat back in the chair, groaning. Asiah still stared at him, looking like a dumbfounded chicken. His head was tilted as such, that at which Rilon had to bite back a laugh.

“Arlett,” A knock came at the door, just as Rilon got himself out of the chair. A guard, no less. Who else would come to his door?

“Which one?” He called back.

“Um…” The guard behind the door hesitated. “Y’know what — both of you come. Lear needs you in the Main Lobby.”

Asiah and Rilon shared a puzzled glance at one another.

“He can’t be serious,” Rilon muttered as he nearly stumbled down the last flight of steps. He took a large breath as he strode into the expansiveness of the Main Lobby. “He may as well lock me outside during the winter. _Who will win: Frostbite, or My Anxiety_?”

Suddenly, Asiah took him by the hand, making him jump. Burning eyes met his.

“Stop exaggerating things,” the younger snapped. “He may not be taking us outside, anyway.”

“Said the one who shoved me out the main doors, _on my fifteenth birthday, just because you dismissed my nerves as a ‘phase’._” He switched to his first language again, although he was vividly aware the English alone was enough to make people stare. Which happened to be true, even quieting down to let the brothers have their quarrel.

Rilon yanked his hand out of his brother’s and crossed his arms, letting out a sigh which echoed throughout the usually noisy lobby.

He snarled under his breath, “_Now look what you’ve done._” The accent in his voice built with his increasing rage, some quirk he’d picked up from his late mother. It looked silly to outsiders, and it made Rilon uncomfortable himself. Oh, well. He couldn’t get rid of it, anyway.

At least it had gotten Asiah’s attention. The younger brother whirled on him, grabbing his hand. “_What do you think you’re doing_?” His German was slurred, like a drunken man.

“_What you think I’m doing._” Wrenching his hand out of Asiah’s, Rilon gave one last remark before total embarrassment set in.

“Boys,”

Asiah had him by his ponytail and was attempting to throw him to the floor, but Lear had approached.

“Let go, Asiah.” They didn’t need to be young children to be scolded like them.

Lear crossed his arms, fixing the brothers with a smoldering stare.

Reluctantly, Asiah let go, allowing Rilon to stand back to his full height. Both concurrently muttered a curse under their breath, earning a further judgemental glare from their father.

Rilon snorted, “_You’re annoying_…”

“Likewise,” Asiah replied, back in English.

Lear shook his head and sighed. “Come on.” The words were exhaled on a low note, tired of the brothers’ quarrels. He began to walk away, toward the building’s exit. Asiah followed after a final glare at Rilon.

Rilon hesitated. He wanted to join them; he really did. Something prevented him from walking toward those very doors, leading to the outside that he dreaded.

Even when he had, the outside felt like some barrier that choked him, gave him… thoughts, feelings that made him want to lock himself in his room and have a good cry. A good reason to stay inside, he kept telling himself.

But, staying inside had a con: _You had to go outside eventually._

Rilon knew that Asiah had outgrown the old habit. Just a simple shove outside was all it took for Rilon to break down.

Last time, the little ‘habit’ had cost Rilon his sense of pride. As for Asiah, the younger brother had gotten a well-deserved slap across the face and the duty of cleaning up glass shards scattered throughout the lobby.

Rilon yanked himself back to the present. Now he was standing there like an idiot, trembling with anxiety in the midst of the lobby.

“Rilon,” His brother called as he held the door open — Lear had already disappeared outside. “You coming?”

“Yeah,” Rilon replied after a moment of reluctance. He began to force himself to move across the lobby to the doors.

Yet, as he got there, something stopped him. His hand hesitated on the door handle. Asiah was on the other side, staring at his hand. They mimicked each other's movements like a double-reflection. Rilon deviated by shaking his head and mouthing, “No.”

Exhaling deeply, his hand left the handle.

_I can’t do this_. Nor could he muster up those exact words, to simply tell his brother, “No,” He shook his head again and moved away into the lobby.

The door squealed open a second later and something caught his hand. It was Asiah.

“We need to go, Rilon.” Asiah began dragging him back into his literal hell, but Rilon whirled on him.

“I can’t Asiah. You don't understand.” He clenched his teeth, refusing to go further. Something in his mind dragged him forward. “Y_ou just don’t get it, do you? I can’t go out there, not after-_”

Finally, he realized what he was saying, catching his breath with a slight choke. Without another word, he ran back into the lobby, the crowd parting like the Red Sea to let the distressed heir through.


	5. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A strange curiosity brings nearly fatal results.

From that simple incident, Rilon felt mentally drained, declining in the month that passed.

He refused to see anyone, not even his own family, becoming a literal recluse in order to avoid any social interaction.

All he did was his work, writing by lamplight that only gave a pitiful amount of light itself. Some nights, he’d work himself nearly half to death, collapsing on the floor from pure exhaustion, and sleeping right there.

At least once or twice, he’d gotten too confused or frustrated. In a fit of rage, he’d thrown the desk over, spilling the contents onto the floor. The loud crash alerted a nearby guard, who burst into the room. Rilon had to reassure them that it was only a fit and dismiss them for lunch after.

Other than that, nobody came to his door, except for the cook, who brought him food once a day as if worried that he’d starve without it.

_Work_.

_Eat_.

_Sleep_.

_Repeat_.

Frankly, for even a recluse such as Rilon, the repetitive schedule was quite depressing. He needed something other than work to keep him busy.

_The cabinets._ What he’d said to Asiah came rushing back to him. _I’m a doctor… Why am I writing about pointless things?_

He got up from his desk and began going through the cabinets, with a notebook and pen in hand. He was careful with some contents, wary that some may be more toxic than others, setting the containers and his notebook down on the counter when his hands got too shaky from nerves.

After a while, he heard the door open, but he paid it no attention, figuring that it was the cook coming by with his meal again. He fixed his glasses and flipped through his notebook. “I’m over here.” He called.

“I’ve come here to apologize.”

Rilon looked up. _That isn’t the cook._

He turned away, shrugging, and set the container back in the cabinet, pulling out a cylindrical beaker to take its predecessor’s place.

“Rilon… Can you stop being so self-absorbed for a minute?” _Not the cook… Definitely Asiah._

He held the beaker closer to his face, muttering an absent, “_Nuh-uh._”

“I’m speaking anyway.”

“Go for it.” Rilon set the beaker down and wrote in the notebook again.

“I realize that I’ve grown out of my habits. I won’t force you outside again.”

“Alright.” Through the amalgam of thoughts, that was the reply that came first. “Could you help me take some notes, Asiah?”

“_What_?” Asiah had braced himself on the counter top, having had walked over there during Rilon’s brief trance. Rilon cautiously pushed him back and handed him the notebook. “Take notes.” He repeated.

“Um…” Asiah stared at the object as if it had been a strange creature.

“Like what I said,” Rilon subsequently handed him the pen and turned back to the counter. “Take notes.”

Asiah let out a groan but complied. He faithfully took notes while Rilon went through the contents of his cabinet. He spoke about other things, mostly boring to Asiah, who still groaned.

“Alright,” Rilon opened the cabinet and stored the last beaker away. “We’re done.”

Asiah visibly relaxed, nearly dropping the notebook. “Oh thank God.” He sighed deeply. “Now I can leave.”

Rilon rolled his eyes, leaning back against the counter. “Leave the notebook here.”

“Fine.” Asiah dropped the notebook on the floor and ran before Rilon could rebuke him for it. He walked over to it, anyway, and picked up the notebook, which was open and on its face.

Then he read it. Most of the notes were in Asiah’s signature sloppy German, but the only thing written back in English was, ‘_Keep a secret for me_’.

Reading below, Rilon smiled broadly.

He didn’t know why the thought struck him in the first place. It must’ve been those notes, he’d figured, or something against his will.

It was early, very early in the morning.

The bedroom door swung open. Rilon, still in his nightclothes, dashed out into the main room of his apartment. His breath heavy, he went to the cabinets and started rifling through them like a starved animal.

It still felt against his will, animalistic. Empty glasses shattered on the floor as Rilon continued searching. This wasn’t him, this didn’t feel like him… Yet, it was him.

Suddenly, he stopped. Rilon had found something, bringing out a liquid-filled glass and setting it up on the counter top. By then, he had already gone through half of the cabinet.

What he was doing, still, he had no idea.

He took the glass in his hands and went to the balcony door. He held it up to the moonlight and stared at it; a red light spilled out onto his clothes, then to which Rilon nearly smiled.

“Very good… _Very good_.” His voice gained an unnatural depth, almost startling even himself. For a moment, he seemed to have regained his senses. “What am I doing?” He muttered, taking the glass away from the window, fighting back the urge to throw it across the room.

That would cause too much of a commotion, though… Wouldn’t it? The thought felt too strange, too detached, as if it didn’t belong to him. Maybe it didn’t.

“Only other way to get rid of it…” He shrugged. “You only live once, as they say.”

But he hesitated. This felt dumb... horrendously _stupid_.

Why am I doing this? Rilon asked himself once again. Finally, he was completely coming to his senses.

Then he shook his head. _Because I must. Because I promised._

“It's a necessity.” His hand on which he held the flask trembled, almost spilling the contents. “It's a need.”

Rilon shook his head and stared at the flask.

“Don't hesitate.”

He brought the flask to his lips, downing the contents.

It was salty, and left a burning aftertaste down his throat. Who would expect anything else but that?

But, as strange as it was... It only got stranger. Nothing was happening. Sniffing, Rilon made his way over to his desk and took out a journal.

He picked up a quill and wrote,

_“July 10th, 2659,_

_No changes to note.”_

Rilon paused. How was he writing with his left hand, if he was primarily right-handed?

On the paper, he scribbled faster, “Somehow I've become… _left-handed_?”

To test out his theory, he attempted writing with the hand he was used to — his right — but was shocked to find that it was useless to him, leaving pitiful scratch marks in place of his usual, perfect writing.

Then he took his glasses off, setting them on the table. Rilon closed the journal without signing off the timestamp and his name and ran his hands through his hair, exasperated.

_I'll just go to bed, I guess..._

When he stood up, however, his legs went suddenly weak. Rilon fell back in the chair and clutched at his head, tearing at his hair. The splitting headache that almost immediately accompanied his actions threw him into nauseous vertigo.

“I should get to Asiah.” The words were forced out of his mouth, directed at nobody in particular — like there was anyone to talk to anyway.

He forced himself out of the chair and stumbled to his door. He blindly fumbled for the lock, and silently celebrated when it clicked open.

Rilon threw himself into the hallway, beginning to stumble along its length.

“Wait,” After several more feet — he didn't know exactly — Rilon fell back against the wall with a groan. “My brother isn't on this floor, is he?”

_I need to call for a guard._

He opened his mouth to call out but panicked when words refused to leave his mouth.

_I'm the biggest idiot to walk the face of the Earth._ Rilon smiled to himself, managing to force out a hoarse laugh at least, sliding against the wall.

“Someone's…” he drew in a slow breath, saving it in case someone did actually find him. “They're going to find me here, aren't they. Stupid little heir, _heh_.”

At this point, he couldn't tell up from down, like he was swimming in an endless lake deeper than he had ever known. It was impossible to discern whether the vertigo was from the chemicals or just pure exhaustion. Perhaps it was both.

Either way, he needed to close his eyes.

Maybe he shouldn't have slept.

It took him a moment to realize that he had actually opened his eyes. Or had he?

This felt more like a mind space more than an actual world. A dark mind space, with no movement or activity whatsoever. It was so dark that he couldn't see his own hands.

_Hello?_

He wasn't alone. There was someone else sharing the mind space with him.

_Am I alone?_

_Wait a minute..._ He knew that voice.

“Should I know you?” Rilon's gaze whirled around. Vertigo had left him at least; he could do this without feeling the world was on a three-second delay.

_Should I know you?_

Although the voice had a rising tone — a question — Rilon recognized it as an echo. He was talking to... Himself?

“I guess ...we may be the same, anyway.”

Wait, that sounded stupid.

“The same person…?”

Even worse.

_The same…_ His echo hesitated as if contemplating his words. _The same._

Quiet fell upon the mind space until a malice laced tone nearly made Rilon jump.

_No, we're not._

Another pause.

_We're not the same._

“How so?” He prompted his voice to give more than just a repeat of the same words.

_They know you. They don't know me. Not for anything. I'm too new._

“I highly doubt the world knows me.” Rilon murmured, clutching at the collar of his nightgown. He lowered his head and asked, “Do you want to be noticed?”

_Yes, I would like that. _The voice perked up.

As the echo did, the darkness in the space lifted. Rilon could finally see his hands, his crimson nightgown, his bare feet.

He looked up to see a figure in the near distance — about fifty feet away. His echo.

Cautiously, Rilon approached. The echo sensed him and turned around.

Rilon flinched.

The figure looked him straight in the eye, curious.

He had nearly the same features as Rilon, black hair, pointed nose; he was even wearing the same crimson nightgown that Rilon himself had on.

Yet, although he had black hair, it was in a mess as though he had slept restlessly, and, upon close inspection, Rilon saw that his eyes were blue, so light that they could have been white. He recognized the color… somehow, but couldn’t place where he’d seen them before.

He was Rilon's echo, but yet he wasn't.

“You're new.” Rilon tilted his head. “Do you have a name?”

_What better to do than get acquainted with… yourself._

The echo shook his head, staring at his feet. _No_.

Rilon held out his hand as if in offering. It was a desperate attempt to not feel awkward, but it made him feel all the more so. “Do you want one?”

The echo looked back up him, reluctantly nodding. _I would._

The awkward feeling overcame Rilon, and he lowered his hand.

“What is your choice, then?”

The other hesitated, standing there in thought.

Eventually, he opened his mouth and spoke.

_Hyde_, he said, smiling. _Edward Hyde._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And finally, we meet Hyde.


	6. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh, he lives.

Serving as what he dubbed ‘interim heir’ was harder than Asiah has imagined.

After finding his brother half-dead from whatever it was — he prayed that it wasn’t attempted suicide — he’d taken over his duties after taking him to the hospital.

Pretty much, after that, he hardly got any sleep for the next week or so. Now he saw why Rilon hated Lear, how Rilon felt every single day of his life.

Yet, all that aside, the week was not without its events.

Asiah was very insistent on seeing his brother, even if Lear insisted that he had more important things to do. With his last remaining bit of sanity, he strangled out excuse after excuse from his father.

He swore that the only thing keeping him sane was seeing his brother still alive, and praying that he would stay that way.

Some nights when he went to visit his brother at the nearby hospital, he almost felt this sense of dread, like he wasn’t alone in his mind. Seeing Rilon lying there on that bed only increased that dread. He felt that his older brother would die, and all the burdens would be placed on him instead.

_Those weren’t the worst nights._

One night, about four or five days in, Rilon had been startled awake by a nightmare, screaming for his mother. It had taken two nurses — and a weary Asiah — to get him calmed down and sedated again.

From that, Asiah had earned a sprained wrist and a nearly broken jaw. He never wanted to go through this again.

For an eternity, it seemed as Rilon would be like this. Asiah had been watching him constantly, ready to pass out and never wake up.

Yet, one day, in the midst of some sleepless daze, he thought he heard someone speak.

“Hide.”

Somehow, he had lived.

How, he would probably never know.

Rilon’s eyes opened to pitch darkness. Was he still dreaming?

Gradually his eyes adjusted, and dim light filtered in.

_Not dreaming._

But he wasn’t in his room; he doubted he was still in the Tower.

He rose into a sitting position, glancing around.

“Rilon?”

He knew that voice. It couldn’t be anyone else, but — “Asiah?”

_Asiah_? The voice — his echo — repeated after him.

“Glad to hear I’m not alone.” Rilon’s ears started ringing after the voice spoke. “Hyde, was it?”

_You don’t remember?_

“I thought I was dreaming.”

“Dreaming?” Asiah spoke again, confirming that he was the other presence Rilon had sensed in the room. “You were out for a week.”

_A week? Damn, that thing did a number on me, didn’t it?_

Asiah came to his bedside and sat on it, before Rilon. “Are you alright?”

After a brief inspection, Rilon pulled a face, and nodded. He seemed fine, at least.

“Rilon.” Asiah got up from the best, his tone dark, a very un-Asiah-like manner. “I need to ask you a question, about what happened.”

The blood began to pound in Rilon’s ears. Asiah had never interrogated him like this. In fact, he never acted like this around him.

Shakily, he took a deep breath, attempting to keep himself calm. “Y-yes, Asiah?”

A million thoughts ran through his head, although it was obvious to see as though he’d been asked it millions of times.

“When I found you, you…” His brother appeared to be collecting his thoughts. Upon closer inspection, it appeared as he had not slept, or if he did, it had been very poorly. “Rilon, did you try to kill yourself?’

He was right. Although he’d personally had these thoughts before, even as young as eleven years old, he wouldn’t consider what happened that night a suicide in itself. It was more of an ‘I kinda poisoned myself against my own will’ kind of thing.

“No, Asiah. That wasn’t what I did. I don’t…” He had his head in his hands; his ears still rang, nearly drowning out his brother. He felt dizzy. “I would never do that, Asiah. Why would you think that?”

He raised his head and stared at his brother, who had his back turned to him. The sun had begun to rise, making him look much clearer of what he was doing. Asiah appeared tense.

“Asiah?”

“I don’t believe you. I just can’t believe you. After what happened with Mother, I find it hard to believe that was an accident.” He turned back to face him, his eyes almost narrowed. If it weren’t for the dark circles under his eyes and his almost sluggish movements, Rilon could swear that his brother would jump at him and strangle him himself.

Yet he had no choice but to accept that Asiah’s disbelief was the truth. Perhaps his brother thought that the doctorate he had earned in chemistry was to gain a better knowledge of what would kill him quicker. He’d almost had a hawk’s eye on Rilon.

“I promise it was an accident.”

“I still don’t believe you.” Asiah strode over to the large window beside Rilon’s bed and stared out with his arms crossed.

_He seems too broody. I don’t like him._

“That’s your opinion.” The reply would have been too hesitant to be a reply to Asiah’s statement, but then again, Asiah didn’t appear to be listening.

_What happened with your mother?_

“That’s none of your business. Be quiet.” Rilon pushed back an image as it appeared in his mind, and got up from the bed.

The world seemed to sway under him; he held out a hand to catch himself on the bed in case he fell. Thankfully, he did not, instead stumbling to his brother and placing a hand on his shoulder, more of a brace than a comforting gesture.

“Don’t touch me, Rilon.”

“You want me to fall. Alright” Rilon joked, although humorlessly. “Leave it alone.”

_I want to speak to him. I want to let him know how much of an ass he’s being to you right now._

Although Rilon did not reply, words stuck in his mouth. T_his is just normal. He gets like this sometimes._

He kept it as a reminder to tell Hyde later, although he felt that it was kind of stupid to remind himself to have a small pep talk with the voice in his head, who he doubted had a physical form besides that mind space figure he had seen.

“Your brain really went to straight to thinking I had committed suicide when you found me, didn’t it?” Rilon asked. When his brother didn’t immediately reply, he added. “Did you ask yourself if that was a good mindset to have?”

“Admittedly, no. Bold of you assume I ask myself anything.” Asiah’s tone had lightened a bit — he was trying to humor himself, at least, from what Rilon heard.. “Maybe I am too quick to assume such drastic things.”

He moved away from the window, and thus Rilon lost the thing he needed to brace himself with. The windowsill was too low for his arms to immediately reach if he did collapse.

“Maybe you are.” His voice darkened. “It’s stupid and pointless.”

His eyes closed as he heard the figure in the room whip around. “Excuse me?”

He sneered. “Maybe you’ll overestimate a situation one day, and where will that get you, Asiah? Where?”

“I’m sorry I get too worried, Rilon.” His tone was exactly where he wanted it. “Maybe you’ll die one day and I won’t have the guts to care.” He heard him turn back around and leave the room, slamming the door behind him.

“You get upset too easily.” He stood up, almost with a perfect posture, and sighed. “I was right: he is an ass to you.”

“Almost too much.” Rilon slouched back over. What was he replying to? “Asiah?”

He turned from the window, only to find that his brother had gone.

Not only that, but what had happened after his brother left the window had been a complete blur.

“Hyde?”

_I got him away so we could talk._

“You didn’t upset him, did you?”

_I think he hates you._

An inhuman growl escaped from Rilon’s throat. The voice — _Hyde _— was new, and already he’d already destroyed something that Rilon doubted he was getting back easily.

Plus he was rebuking a voice. Sure, he was aware that Hyde had briefly taken over his body, but it was a voice. _A stupid voice._

_For your information, the ‘voice’ destroyed your relationship with your brother._

“I want you to shut up, Edward.” Rilon was afraid that his brother — or anyone — was eavesdropping on him. He’d seen what had happened to people who claimed to have voices in their heads and talked to themselves like madmen. It struck a fear in him that he would be sent to Institution if he was caught. That he would never see anyone again. “Just keep quiet.”

_If you insist._

“Have you made up your mind?” The door squealed open; Rilon whipped back to the window, pretending to stare out into space. Instead, he watched the Tower, so close, yet so far from where he stood. It brought him anxiety to think about going there, about going back outside onto the street.

“Have you thought about your reactions?” As Asiah joined him beside the window again, Rilon crossed his arms.

His brother didn’t reply to that, instead appearing to be in some inner turmoil with himself. Rilon didn’t bother him, rethinking his own actions.

“You really carried me all the way here?”

“More like dragged. I wouldn’t be surprised if someone thought I had killed you for some odd reason.” Asiah glanced at him. “You weigh like — what — 90-ish kilos? I can’t lift you over my shoulders like a fucking strongman.”

Well, Asiah had forgiven him — or at least Rilon hoped he had. “You could have at least tried.” He chuckled.

Afterwards, he died down, still staring nostalgically out the window. That was all he could go through... memories of when he was normal, before he pretty much had his life shattered like a broken mirror.

He supposed he’d had more of an abnormal life than a normal one.

“Do you want me to leave you alone with your… window?” Asiah broke the silence — Rilon somehow wished he hadn’t. “In all seriousness, do you want me to leave you alone?”

“In all honesty, I would rather talk to you than myself.” Rilon stole a glance at his brother.

_Noted_… Hyde muttered.

“You seem to like your view there.”

It wasn’t far from the truth, and in all honesty, it was something that Rilon could nearly laugh at. He stared back at the Tower, still the same distance away. “Yeah.” He could admit it. “I guess I do.”

He fell silent, eyes narrowing, and lowered his head from the window. “Maybe I could use some time alone.” He sighed. “Me, myself, and I.”

“Alright,” His brother seemed to be almost relieved, giving Rilon a brief pat on the shoulder before departing from his side. “Call me if you need me.”

As he departed, Rilon went back to the bed and sat down. He couldn’t bear to look outside anymore.

“You seemed more innocent back then.”

_Well, appearances can be deceiving, Arlett._

“You do have a point. Just, please, don’t make me look like a bitch in front of my brother.” Rilon fell back upon the bed, loudly groaning.

_I can’t make any promises._

“You are the worst form of self-talk.”

_Noted_…

“Maybe I should talk to you more often, just maybe not in front of anyone, okay?”

_Also, noted. May I note that you look like an idiot without your glasses?_

“First it was Asiah with the hair, and now you with glasses.” Rilon restlessly turned over in bed, drawing the covers over him. “I- I forgot my glasses at the Tower.”

He whipped out of bed and ran to the door, opening it to find Asiah nearly passed out in a chair across from him. “Asi.”

Disturbed, his brother stirred, staring at him with annoyance. “I thought you said you wanted to be left alone.”

“_Glasses_.” Rilon held out his hand. “I need them.”

It took several moments for the realization to dawn on Asiah. “Oh, right. I grabbed them from your room.” He quickly fumbled through his coat pockets, searching for what Rilon needed. He then pulled out Rilon’s glasses from a side pocket, holding them out in exasperation. “Now let your poor, tired brother sleep.”

Rilon shut the door without a word of thanks, but leaned back against it, only staring at the glasses in his hand. They felt strange, like a new object he had never seen before. Yet, he supposed it was the fact he hadn’t worn them in the last week.

_Can’t exactly wear these while I’m asleep, can I?_

He smiled, mainly to himself, and put them on. The room came into sharp focus, almost enough to make him dizzy at the sight. At least he could see.

That thought made him giddy with emotion. He’d never been this way, but the feeling had been … joyous. Rilon nearly danced around the room, but restrained himself from doing so, for he felt that the noise would alert those nearby, and only make a worse embarrassment out of himself.

This wasn’t exactly normal, but then, compared to his other emotions plus the fact he had been out for a week, unable to feel any, he wouldn’t consider it so out of the blue.

At least a brief twirl around was enough to steady his emotions…

It would have helped if it steadied him. The room still spin, Rilon tripped over his own feet and fell to the floor with a loud thud.

Footsteps ran to his door, and it opened. Rilon rolled onto his back and then sat up, expecting it to be Asiah.

Yet it wasn’t him, but it wasn’t a nurse either, but a patient like him, a woman around his age. She crossed her arms, staring at him with a smirk. “Are you alright?”

Indifferent about her concern, Rilon nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Alright.” The woman brushed away dirty blonde hair away from her face. She also appeared indifferent to him. “Just don’t die.”

She left the room, and Hyde promptly chuckled. Whether it was at Rilon’s stupidity, or something else, Rilon didn’t care to know.

_Just don’t die. Good luck with that, Arlett._

“Please don’t call me Arlett.”

_Fine… _Hyde paused, then proceeded to snicker more. _Arlett_.

Rilon snarled audibly and got to his feet, and impatiently muttered under his breath, “I will kill you when I get the chance.”

_Don’t do that._

“Fucking watch me, Edward.” Rilon walked back over to his bed and sat down with an exasperated sigh. “Fucking. Watch. Me.”

He fell back, bouncing briefly, then closing his eyes. Silently, he prayed that Asiah hadn’t heard any of it. Hopefully he was asleep like he had promised.

“Sleep sounds nice, doesn’t it?” He felt drained, even though he had been awake for twenty minutes, if that.

Within moments, after he had closed his eyes, Rilon felt himself slip into a possibly endless darkness.

For the last hour or so of his sleep, Rilon was restless. At some point, he had woken up — he figured around mid-afternoon — and hadn’t been able to get back into a deep sleep since.

Eventually, after more tossing and turning, he rose from the bed. A brief feeling of giddiness made him race to the door to make his escape.

Out in the hallway, he felt exposed. Long, expansive, and growing dark with the approach of evening… it made him shiver.

Yet, he heard breaths, sleeping breaths, telling him that he was not alone.

A man was passed out in a chair across from the door.

_Asiah_? The name was faint in his mind, but it quickly matched to the images running through his mind.

Cautious, he approached him, reaching out a hand as if to ruffle his hair, but refrained from doing so. He might wake him with the action.

_He had a long week, didn’t he? I may as well leave him be._

Lowering his hand, he flashed the sleeping man a brief smile, then began his trek down the long hallway.

Though haunting, he found the hallway strangely peaceful. Everything seemed to be painted in shades of black and white, the doors a succession of haunting gray, counting down by 2s — _1212, 1210,1208._

At the end, he found a sign he couldn’t read, but one he could vaguely understand after repeating it to himself several times over.

“Balcony?”

He glanced to his left. Nothing. _Right, then._

He headed right after a glance at the sign to show that he was heading in the right direction. The halls didn't seem as frightening once he had gotten at least a vague idea of where he was headed. He leaned against the walls as he walked, brushing his hands against the door when he came upon one.

_Tap_.

_Tap_.

He paused, and so did the tapping.

Someone was following him. He wasn't alone.

It fell silent, so he started walking again.

Again, the footsteps started up again.

_Tap tap._

_Tap_.

Once again, he paused, backing up and turning around. Frightened and wary, he started backing up to the door quickly. He fumbled for the handle once he reached it, only to his dismay to find that it was out of reach.

He froze.

“Afraid of a little girl?” A silhouette stepped before him, and he flinched. “Wow, you’re just as dense as the last one.”

Out of fear, he didn’t reply. The female stepped closer into the dimming sunlight., revealing herself.

_It’s her. The woman from earlier_. In vain, he attempted to keep himself from shivering.

“Did you come here to watch the sun set?” She twirled a lock of blonde hair, which appeared golden in the sunlight. To her question, he nodded hesitantly.

He moved away from the door as she approached him.

“What’s so scary about the sunset?” She took his hand, but this time, he didn’t flinch away.

“Oh,” She said, staring straight into his eyes in realization. “It’s me, isn’t it?”

Once again, he nodded, smiling nervously.

“I can tell you a secret.” She lowered her voice. “You were a bit frightening as well.”

She opened the door, dragging him along onto the large balcony. He felt the cement scrape his bare feet as she did so, to which he nearly protested against.

She only let go once they reached the very edge, using both of her hands to grab onto the railing tightly.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” She stared out at the sun, setting below the mountains. He nodded, but it was an absent-minded one. Instead, he gazed down at the large drop below them. It didn’t take scientific knowledge to know that if he were to jump, he wouldn’t survive the fall.

He nodded, a yes.

After several moments of staring down at the drop, he moved his gaze to stare at her. She now had her chin resting in her hands, engrossed in the sunset. She somehow looked peaceful, her eyes nearly closed and a wide smile on her face. The tinge of fading sunlight made her appear almost golden, more so than she had been before.

It took him a few moments to realize that she wasn’t staring at the sunset — she was lost in thought.

He felt rude to break her peacefulness, but instead she did before he could.

“What’s your name?”

He responded in almost a panicked quickness, his voice shaking. “Hyde. Um, I’m Edward Hyde.”

“Edward Hyde… Edward.” She appeared to be going over the name in her head. “I had a grandfather named Edward. We all just called him Eddie. Would you mind if I called you Eddie?”

“ I couldn't care less.” Hyde relaxed as she did, staring back out at the mountains. There he remained quiet until the first stars appeared and the sky gradually dimmed to a dark shade of blue.

Then he nearly jumped. “Um, what’s your name?”

“Ottawa. Ottawa Elliott. In my opinion, it sounds weird to be named after a place that’s been dead for centuries.” She sniffed in indignation, and stared at the railing.

“I like it.” Hyde said suddenly, startling her to look at him.

“You do? A complete stranger, liking my name. What an oddity.” She sniffed in indignation, shrugging. “Nobody’s ever liked my name.”

“I’m assuring you that there is always a first person.”

“Miss Elliott.” The voice of a nurse interrupted their brief, comfortable silence. “I believe you should get some rest.”

Ottawa growled under her breath, letting out a childish gripe. “But I’m not tired. I slept all day today.”

“_Miss Elliott._” The nurse cleared her throat. “It’s time to rest now.”

Ottawa, groaning again, offered Hyde a sympathetic smile. “See you soon, Eddie.” she murmured. “Try to find me?”

Hyde nodded, but she had already gone to the nurse. She had not seen him.

Sadly, Hyde sighed, dangling his arms over the railing. His first talk with a normal person, a person who liked him, and it had been so brief that it may have been lost in history.

At least he had experienced it. He would allow himself to have that thought.


	7. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fear is a stupid thing... isn't it?

The first thing Rilon happened upon when he returned to his room was his sleeping brother. He smiled to himself, and reached out to ruffle Asiah’s hair without hesitation. A vague memory flashed in his own mind, but it was so blurry that it couldn’t have been significant.

His brother stirred, swatting his hand away with a groan. “_No more… I’m going to die_.”

“_Asiah_.” Rilon set his hand down upon his brother’s shoulder, startling him awake.

“How-how much did you hear?” Asiah rubbed his eyes, which were still rimmed with dark circles. At least he had slept after not doing so for the week Rilon had been out.

Rilon ignored the question. “Good morning.”

“You’re not wearing your-”

“Is me wearing my glasses or not concern you?” Rilon sighed and quickly gathered himself. “I said ‘_good morning_’.”

“Ah, no need to be rude.” Asiah got up, only to stumble and fall heavily back into the chair. “You’re letting me sleep when we get back… and you’re doing all the paperwork that I never finished.”

“I’ll… I’ll make sure Lear knows that.” Rilon hesitated as he spoke his father’s name. It gave him an uneasy feeling, but he didn’t know what for. He guessed the reason didn’t matter.

Quickly, Rilon went back into his room. He left the door slightly ajar, in case Asiah had anything further to tell him.

“Your clothes are on the dresser.” Asiah called from the hall. “I brought them from your apartment.”

“Oh.” Rilon had not taken notice of them, being too involved in other matters, especially that recent blackout.

He knew Hyde had done something then, if he couldn’t explain it. Yet, he felt that it didn’t matter.

Quickly he got changed, and was just fixing his hair back when Asiah spoke again. “You feel alright?”

“Yeah.” Briefly, Rilon adjusted his glasses. “Is there a reason?”

“Uh…” Asiah began to speak again, but faltered. It must have not been important enough to bring up. “No reason.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be deathly tired?” Rilon crossed his arms.

Asiah didn’t verbally, but sniffed to express his annoyance. Rilon didn’t need to see him to know that he pulled that ‘I lost an argument’ face, a twisted face of irritation when his brother lost even the smallest of arguments.

“Well, I signed you out while you were asleep. The nurses told me that your blood work was normal.”

_Couldn’t he have told you this when he talked to you this morning?_

“I doubt that he knew.” Rilon whispered back, then raised his voice to ask Asiah, “We’re walking home, aren’t we?”

“Is that a problem?”

“No...no.” Uneasily, Rilon bit back any further words that came to his throat. Unfortunately, around Asiah, he’d have to suck it up and deal with it. Any breakdown would make him look too stupid.

He took in a shuddering breath and stepped into the hallway.

“I’m guessing you don’t approve of what happens next.”

Rilon crossed his arms, swallowing back bile that rose along with the uneasiness in his throat. He nodded, a nonverbal yes to his brother.

It didn’t even take a verbal reply for the brothers to know what was on each other's minds. For Asiah, he knew Rilon was going to visibly protest going outside; for Rilon, he could tell his brother felt exasperated more than anything.

“I’ll at least try, alright, Asi?”

Asiah sent him a worried glance, but after a moment, he nodded with a loud sigh. “Alright.”

After several failed attempts at taking the elevator — mainly at Asiah’s fears of ‘getting stuck’ — they took the stairs… the entire way down.

It turned into a race around the seventh floor, and they made it a full five flights before Asiah nearly tripped and fell down a full flight.

On the second floor, Rilon paused to catch his breath, clutching at the railing.

Peering down, he felt fearless, dauntless, letting out a whoop of joy as it rose in his throat. He didn’t care if anyone heard him.

Asiah’s footsteps descended beside, snatching his attention from the view. He appeared to be more breathless, clutching his side and wheezing through his teeth. He was a sight Rilon could nearly laugh at, but he refrained, instead shaking his head.

“How the _fuck _do you have more stamina than me?” He, too, clutched at the railing, but for a rest rather than the fearlessness Rilon felt. “You’re locked in your room all day.”

“I don’t know.” Admittedly, Rilon was only half-listening, turning his attention back to the view down the stairs. Asiah followed his gaze, but didn’t speak.

Yet, a few moments later, he did. “We’re probably killing Lear, making him wait like this.”

“Agreed.” Rilon hung back on the railing, staring at the flight above his head. Seconds later, he smiled. “Why not make him wait a bit longer?”

Now engrossed in a silent conversation of glances, the brothers carefully made their way down the remaining flights of stairs. Rilon held in multiple forms of anxiety, anxiety that Asiah had likely noticed more than once.

Quietly — and mainly to himself — Rilon wished that he and his brother didn’t share that silent, telepathic, empathetic bond like most siblings did.

Still, they made it to the hospital’s lobby with no trouble. Asiah bade some passersby a good day as they made their way to the exit.

_This is going to be harder than it looks._

Rilon stood in front of the door, completely still. The outside was right there, but he couldn’t just step out with a facade pretending that everything was okay when it wasn’t.

_Are you just going to stand there?_

Asiah, clearly impatient, pushed the door open; the look he flashed Rilon clearly said “_You broke your promise_.”

Uneasily, Rilon pulled at the cuffs of his coat. He was very aware of the scene he was making, of the burning eyes staring at him. In all honesty, he’d rather show this than his true self.

His brother stared at him through the door, no, glared at him. He just wanted this over with, Rilon knew that.

Sighing, he closed his eyes. Well, he had promised his brother he would at least try, so he couldn’t break that promise, as Asiah’s gaze had suggested moments earlier.

Forcing down any doubts, Rilon pushed the door open and stepped outside.

Immediately, a feeling of furious nervosity overtook him, forcing him past his brother onto the street.

Everything was so unfamiliar.

Everything was so dark.

He didn’t know his way around.

_He didn’t like this feeling._

“This is why I’ve stayed inside.” He broke into a running pace, hearing his brother’s distant protests echo in his ears.

There were so many people. He didn’t know these people. _He didn’t like this._

The breath was stolen from him, an overwhelming choking feeling rising in his throat. He still didn’t like this.

At the first chance, Rilon turned down an alleyway to hide. There was no chance he was getting to the Tower at this rate of rising panic.

He forced himself against the alleyway’s wall. His legs felt like thin sticks, breaking under him, falling to the ground. He hid his eyes behind a hand, has mouth behind the other.

_He definitely did not like this feeling._

“Rilon.”

Instantly, Rilon’s hand went out to defend himself, although vainly. Another hand caught it, and held it tight.

“I’m here. Ri, it’s me.”

Rilon — still panicking — raised his head. Holding his hand was his brother, confirming whatever thoughts he had. He managed a weak smile, trembling uncontrollably.

“We need to get home… I don’t think… I can manage getting any worse.”

Asiah let out a huff of breath, which Rilon suspected was an attempt at a humorless laugh. “Do you want me to carry you?”

Rilon struggled to get to his feet, but eventually managed. “I think I’ll be fine.”

“You sure?” Asiah seemed to briefly look him over. “Because you look like you’re about to collapse again.”

“I’m fine.” The statement came out harsher than Rilon had expected it to; from the way Asiah had flinched, it was close to an extreme rebuke for him. “I’m sorry.”

He walked away from Asiah, impatiently muttering to himself.

_What’s gotten into me?_


	8. Chapter Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things aren't always as they seem...

Back in his apartment later that night, Rilon sat at his desk, scribbling in his journal. His mind still whirled, tired but unable to sleep.

Being anxious… still a thing he despised. It was a thing he tried to avoid at all cost. Even his self-induced agoraphobia was the only thing keeping him sane.

At a knock on the door, he raised his head, but didn’t reply.

“It’s me, Frei.”

Asiah only called him that. He let out a noise of affirmation and the door opened as he turned his attention back to his journal.

“_Wie geht es_?”

_How’s it going?_

Asiah knew to revert to Rilon’s first language when he was distressed. He must still think that he was the same from earlier.

Rilon smiled and waved his hand. “English please. I’m fine.”

“How’s it going?”

“I heard you the first time.” Rilon tittered, mostly to himself, feeling rather amused. “And I’m fine, thanks for asking.”

After no reply from his brother, he set the quill down and turned around in his chair. “Are you okay?”

“Father is being a little too… insensitive.” Asiah sat on the counter and crossed his arms with a loud huff. “Mostly to you.”

“Oh, you’re protecting me? I’m flattered, but shouldn’t I be protecting you?”

“I think insensitive wouldn’t be an accurate statement.” Asiah’s voice rose sharply. “Maybe abhorrent, nasty, or maybe just downright _abusive_.”

The last word struck a weird, panicked pang within Rilon’s chest, feeling it tighten up and nearly cutting off his breath. He wanted to say something about it, but couldn’t bring words to his feelings.

“I wouldn’t say… that. About him.”

Asiah stared straight at him, his gaze icy and cold. “Would you? I wish you would think otherwise, then.”

This didn’t feel right. Asiah wasn’t usually this confrontational. Rilon abruptly got up from his desk and nearly stumbled to his brother.

“You need to cut this out, Asiah.” Every part of him tensed up as he raised his voice, yet even more so as his brother leaned forward, getting in his face.

“_Should I_?” He sneered.

Instantly, Rilon reeled, almost in disgust. It was an instant reaction, but it was delayed to him what he had actually done until Asiah glared at him, appearing hurt.

“What...?” Rilon’s hands began shaking, more out of shock than anything, and he stared down at them. “Asi…”

“If you’re trying to apologize to me.,” Asiah glowered at him, sliding off of the counter top and shoving Rilon away. “_Don’t_.”

He didn’t offer Rilon even a glance as he slammed the door behind him.

Silently, distressed, Rilon stared at the floor. He bared his teeth and whispered, “_Es tut mir leid._”

I’m sorry.


	9. Chapter Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I knew Lear was a bitch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd say trigger warning here for a little later in the chapter. You can skip over this one if things get a bit hard for you.

He’d only just passed out on his desk when his rest was interrupted by a knock on the door.

“Come in.” Rilon quickly fixed his glasses and sat up straight, preparing for whomever it could be. Silently, he prayed that it wasn’t Asiah, who’d stormed out only hours earlier.

Maybe more than that, judging from the red sky.

“Good morning.” It was Lear — the voice was too deep, too calm to be his brother’s. “You slept well, I reckon?”

Rilon couldn’t find the right words to reply in time. Instead, he stammered, making incomprehensible sounds, then shrugged. He ran his hands through his hair.

“Something wrong?” Lear’s voice rose a few octaves.

Rilon shook his head, leaning over in the chair. What Asiah said ran through his mind, giving him unsure feelings about his father, so he was hesitant in telling the truth.

Abusive? Lear never appeared like that, at least, not that he could remember.

“_Get out_.” He stared at his father and pointed at the door. “_I’m fine._”

Anxiety rose again in his throat, anxiety that he had no control over. This didn’t feel right.

He fixed Lear with such an intense gaze that his father nearly flinched under it.

“Your brother wants to speak with you.”

“Asiah can fuck off for all I care.” Rilon’s voice nearly rose to a yell, his distress rising with it. “Now _GET OUT_!”

He hadn’t meant to raise his voice, but after seeing anger flash in his father’s eyes before he left, he didn’t regret it.

“_Mein Gott_, he gets on my nerves.”

_Still?_

“Good morning.” Rilon sighed. At least Hyde was a person he could get along with, even if he was.. technically just a voice in his head.

That more or less made him sound like a madman.

_I’d have a mature conversation with him._

“That’s the last thing I want to do. He… gets upset easily.”

_Is this where you got the idea of locking yourself in your room from?_

Rilon felt no need to respond to Hyde’s question. He knew that he was trying to get to know him, but what he’d asked was a bit too personal.

_He seems much calmer after what happened to your mother._

“I don’t think he wants to upset me.” Now he was losing his trust in Hyde, and surprisingly very easily. The memories leading up to what had happened were a blur, if not practically nonexistent.

He got up from the chair and headed outside to the balcony. More than anything, he wanted to clear his head than stare out into the city, but one was impossible without the other.

Before the railing, he sat down, staring through the bars. He was just in time to catch the sun rising above the mountains in the distance.

_You chose this because it faces the East. You like watching the sun rise._

“You really shouldn’t know that.” Rilon huffed. “Don’t you have your own life?”

_I’m inside your head. Isn’t it obvious that I’d go digging around eventually?_

“It’s been a week.”

_Fair point._

This wasn’t going to work.

Rilon got up from the balcony, heading back inside.

The apartment felt too small for him after the openness of the balcony, too cramped. He headed for the hallway, fixing himself up in case he ran into anyone.

He locked the door as a precaution. He didn’t want to make that mistake again.

Rilon wanted to go somewhere other than the tenth floor. Too long he’d confined himself to this particular floor, which felt too small for his liking.

He took the stairs up, running instead of walking. The floors went up, quick, one by one, almost a blur.

Strangely, he preferred the euphoria over anxiety. Was it strange at all?

Not really.

Eventually, stamina had to run out, stopping him.

Rilon stopped in the corner of the stairwell, glancing at the number of the floor.

_35\. Good job._

Rilon collapsed to the floor, breath heaving. His lungs burned from the run, and would take a while to recover.

This was better than he had felt in years.

It would be fun to do it again.

_Rilon_.

Rilon stared up at the top of the stairwell. Strangely, his brother was standing there, staring at him coldly.

“Asi?”

With the cold look never leaving his eyes, Asiah smiled. “Did you have fun?”

“What do you want?” Rilon snarled. The last thing he wanted right now was a lecture from his brother.

Asiah stalked down the stairs, his hands clasped behind him. To Rilon, he looked strangely formal in this manner. He shivered — this didn’t feel like his brother at all. Asiah was usually never like this.

“I thought I should apologize.” He said, almost hesitantly. “For my behavior earlier.”

“You said that there was nothing to apologize for.” Rilon went to head back downstairs- a vain attempt to get out of talking to his brother.

Yet Asiah followed close behind, almost breathing down his neck. “You don’t accept, dear brother?”

“Get away from me.” Rilon shoved his brother away and took off down the stairs.

They made it several floors before Asiah had caught up with him. Rilon ran out of the stairwell, nearly running into the hallway wall. Breathless, he clenched his fist and turned around with a loud snarl. “If you’re here to tell me about Father, I won’t have any of it.”

“_You’ll figure it out sometime_.” Asiah only blinked, not showing a single sign of emotion.

Yet then, he sneered. “You won’t like it when you do. You'll regret figuring it out. You really will.”

Without a further word, he turned and headed back up the stairs.

Rilon struggled to catch his breath, staring in shock at where his brother had once been. He swallowed bile rising in his throat.

_I need to find Lear._

Now alone, Rilon chose to take the elevator, this time down to the second floor. Lear’s living quarters. Where else would he be, sulking away from the rest of the world?

The ride, in its entirety, took five minutes, but Rilon remained quiet, even in his thoughts, huddled in the back corner, watching the numbers fall. He found it strangely amusing, even though counting was a simple thing that even a five-year-old would know.

He tilted his head back toward the ceiling and closed his eyes, letting the hum of the elevator be the only thing within the confines of his mind.

As the elevator lurched and the door opened, Rilon remained there for a full minute, gathering himself.

_I_ _ thought having a conversation was the last thing on your mind._

“I can change my mind.” Rilon himself lurched forward, running out of the doors before they shut for good. “What, do I not have that right?”

Hyde did not reply; Rilon could picture him glowering at him with an icy gaze.

This had been the first time he’d been to this floor in a long while - this place felt like a maze to him. Unlike the normal floors, which divided themselves into an aisle likeness, the President’s quarters were deliberately divided at random, so that one unfamiliar with its layout, such as a potential assailant, would easily get lost within them.

Unfortunately, Rilon was also unfamiliar with this floor. It would be difficult for him to navigate without some sort of help.

Also, unfortunately, he was completely alone.

_At least keep calm, Ri._ As he walked forward, he attempted to soothe himself, even in vain.

The hallway was too dark for him to navigate. This was also a deliberate design. Only Lear had the key for the lights to navigate his way out.

He reached out a hand, touching the wall to feel his way around. It was cold enough to send a shiver up his hand.

It abruptly ended. A corner. Rilon turned, only to be cut off by a dead end.

_Could Lear navigate these halls in the dark?_

Rilon turned back, but didn’t head down the hall that he had come. This time, he was blind, keeping his hands close to him in a hug.

There was something about being in a strange place in the dark that constantly gave him a feeling of disquiet. Sure, he was alone in his room in the dark, but that was different. He was familiar with its surroundings, plus it was always lit by even the dimmest sliver of moonlight on sometimes the most cloudy of nights.

The lights suddenly switched themselves on.

_Lear?_

“I thought I heard footsteps.”

The voice came from somewhere behind him. Judging by other steady breaths, his father was not alone.

Nervously, Rilon turned around. He was visibly shaking with anxiety, but managed to keep his voice steady. “I-I need to speak with you.”

Lear raised a hand to dismiss the guards, but Rilon stopped them. “They need to stay. I want them to hear what I have to say.”

His father showed no sign of emotion. No disturbance, no nervousness, nothing. He lowered his hand and sighed, but said nothing. The guards watched him patiently.

“My brother… spoke to me earlier, after we had gotten back. He told me that there was something that I needed to know. Something that I would not like when I found out.”

Lear’s hand twitched, and he briefly shifted on his feet, but still he appeared unmoved otherwise. Rilon nearly thought that he heard his breath catch.

_You really wouldn't like it, Arlett._

_Don’t call me Arlett, Edward._

“Was there a certain behavior you tried to hide from me. You tried to make me doubt that it ever happened. You tried to make me forget it, didn’t you?”

_“I-”_

“Don’t avoid the question, Lear.” Rilon snarled, making even the guards flinch. “What did you do to me? _What are you trying to make me forget_?”

Conflicted, Lear looked away, avoiding his gaze. Rilon knew that he had backed his father into a corner. This wasn’t something that he would readily admit under normal circumstances, but now he looked completely helpless.

“What you’re doing to me, sometimes physically.” He finally said, after several moments of more conflicted silence. “What you’re doing… but imagine it on a daily basis. Without reason or motive.”

_Daily basis.. sometimes physically… without reason or motive._

The realization hit him like a train, and was just as physically jarring.

“You… _you abused me_? Is that what you did?”

From the way Lear had tensed, Rilon had hit home.

“You did, _didn't you_?”

Pained, Lear nodded. “Yes.”

Rilon kept his voice flat, although it was very clear that barely restrained frustration had leaked into his tone. “Good.” He said. “That's all I needed to know. Don't you even try to redeem yourself. “

Lear didn't even attempt to protest as Rilon stalked away. Even with that, Rilon knew that something was still coming.

He heard something thud to the floor. At that moment, Lear seemed to protest. “Rilon.”

“I said I not to try.”

“No. _Rilon_.” He wasn't trying to do anything but request help. He was distressed.

Rilon abruptly turned around to find Lear standing over the body of one of his guards. The other appeared more distressed than Rilon saw from his father.

_They were fine just a moment ago._

Had he paid attention to any warning signs? No. He’d been so involved with getting an answer out of his father that he had not paid attention to any minor details.

His pace back was quicker; he shoved his father out of the way and took a quick glance over the fallen guard.

Their eyes were already closed, and their lips were blue, yet they were still warm. Rilon placed a hand to their neck to check for a pulse.

_Nothing._

Whatever had killed them had done it quickly. Rilon had had no chance in saving them.

He sighed, and got to his feet. “They’re gone.” he muttered.

He turned to Lear, barely hiding a snarl in his voice. “You didn’t kill them, did you?”

Panicked, Lear shook his head. He wasn’t lying from the quickness of his response — the death of the guard had been a surprise to him as well.

“Damn it.” Rilon ignored Lear, then turning to the other guard, who almost flinched under his cold gaze. “Just… find anyone… report this. I don’t care.”

Without another word, he stormed off to the elevator.

Exasperated, Rilon slammed the door shut.

It was all coming together. This whole thing that Lear did… it had all been an act, just some facade to gain back Rilon’s trust.

It made him sick.

He strode over to him desk to calm himself down. The compulsion to throw something was strong, yet he ignored it. Shaking hands was a sacrifice that he was willing to make over a destroyed room.

Rilon couldn’t take it.

The compulsion was too strong.

He couldn’t do this anymore.

With a loud howl, Rilon threw the desk. It fell to the floor, papers scattered everywhere. Ink spilled, staining the carpet.

It came to him what he had done moments later. Rilon collapsed to the floor with his head in his hands, sobbing in frustration.

_You pathetic, worthless piece of shit. Sometimes you wonder why you're useless, Rilon._

“I couldn't even save one damn guard. I trusted my father too much.”

_Arlett… I’m…_

“If you’re trying to give me sympathy, I don’t_ fucking want it_.”

_This is what I was trying to tell you._

Rilon fell silent, an act more out of anger rather than calm. He took in slow, shuddering breath, even though he knew that just that act alone was not enough to calm him.

He forced back the bile rising in his throat as a new figure intruded in on him. Looking up, he confirmed their identity.

_Asi_.

“I’m sorry.” He forced a laugh, but it wouldn’t cover for the mess. Rilon wiped his face with the sleeve of his coat. “You don’t have to see me like this.”

Asiah shut the door behind him. “I hear you scream and I’m not supposed to get worried? Is that not normal for you?”

The relief was replaced with annoyance.

“How did you get in?”

Asiah took off something from around his neck. Upon closer inspection, Rilon found that it was a key attached to a string.

_And you wonder why I don’t trust you._

He stared back down at his lap and sighed. “Did you know about this?”

“About what?” Asiah hung the string back around his neck.

“What Lear did.”

“What did he do to warrant your hate this time?”

“I-” Rilon froze before the words were out of his mouth. Saying it wasn’t going to make it any better, he figured. H e shook his head with another sigh. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Then you just threw your desk for fun, is that it?”

“Can’t you at least comfort your brother, Ass? Is that what my distress warrants?” Rilon buried his head in his hands again, another angry sob forcing its way out of his throat.

_I don’t want this feeling anymore. I want it to go away._

“Ri, I-” From the sound of it, Asi had not been expecting this outburst. “Ri.”

Rilon heard his brother’s footsteps draw closer, then slide as he knelt down before him. He lifted his head and their gazes met briefly. The silent message passed between them, and Asiah’s gaze turned to one of emotional pain.

He knew.

He pulled Rilon into a hug, but Rilon knew that it was only to hide his own face.

“There’s something bothering you as well.” Rilon managed to calm his voice enough to speak again. He pulled out of the hug but still held on to his brother’s shoulders.

“Yeah.” Asi rubbed his cheeks, evidence that he had been crying. “You wouldn’t think of me any differently if I-”

He was cut off my a knock at the door. “Asiah Arlett?”

It was a voice that Rilon had never heard before; however, Asiah recognized it, and sent a glance back at Rilon.

“I have to go now. Are you going to be alright by yourself?”

“Yeah.” Rilon lied. He wanted his brother to see through the lie, to stay here and keep him company. He didn’t want to be alone, especially in his swirling chaos of thoughts.

Unfortunately, Asiah believed him, and sighed. “I’m sorry, Ri.”

“_Asi_, I can’t be kept waiting.”

Rilon took slight offense to the nickname, nearly grimacing as his brother went to the door. _I’m supposed to call him Asi._

Asiah offered Rilon not even a glance as he left the room.

Sighing, Rilon got to his feet, scanning the room.

“I better clean up this mess.”


	10. Chapter Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd say trigger warning here too. Just sensitive stuff all around.

Rilon had thought he’d get a good night’s sleep.

Someone had decided otherwise.

“Good morning!”

Before he knew it, his mattress, his steady ground, was tilting.

Then he was on the floor. With his mattress atop him.

Before he could move the mattress away from him, a heavy weight slammed on top of it, throwing him and pinning him to the ground.

“Asiah, you ass.” He managed to free at least his face from under the mattress. “I’m going to kill you when I get the chance.”

“Which you’ll never get. I’m untouchable today.” He shifted, and fell back. “I will make sure of it.”

“Oh… birthday.” For the past four years, this was what he’d done. It started out as a thing to cheer him up out of his grief upon losing the guard, but soon it had become a thing just to deliberately piss Rilon off. “It’s November 9th. How could I forget?” He ended sarcastically.

“Finally twenty-three.”

“Isn’t any less of an excuse to not act like a child.” Rilon groaned. “Now get off before you break something.”

“Fine… fine.” Asiah rolled onto what was the bed frame of Rilon’s bed. A moment later, and audible “_**Ow**_!” came from him.

Rilon laughed at this, lifting himself and the mattress until they were both fully standing. “Get off before I squish you.”

“Alright, alright.” Asiah rolled off of the bed onto the floor, followed by another, “Ow!”

_You’re such a child._

Rilon flipped the mattress back onto the bed, to which there it sat until Asiah stood and reluctantly fixed it.

“Now, if you want to leave my room alive, you fix my bed while I get dressed.” Rilon fixed his younger brother with such a cold glare that it made him flinch.

He pushed past Asiah as he went to rifle through his dresser for day clothes.

“Let me guess, same thing as yesterday?” Asiah had the blanket in a bundle, covering his face. “Can’t you wear something other than just black?”

Rilon held his outfit close to him, like it was the most precious thing to him. He scowled, but said nothing. This was the only thing he really felt comfortable in, despite his nightgown, which was a crimson as blood. Dark colors had been his thing, so why did Asiah have to worry about his dress sense, when he had his own to worry about?

He shook off the thought, heading to the bathroom.

As soon as he shut the door, it was as if all the exhaustion of his lifetime had come back to haunt him. He slid back against the door with a loud yawn, dropping the clothes to the floor.

_Tired_?

“Good morning.” Rilon muttered. “What did you do last night?”

_What’s it to you?_

“Edward.” Rilon lowered his tone, cold. “_What did you do?_”

Eh, went to the penthouse. Maybe I climbed on that lightning rod at the very top. That was fun. Hyde’s words suggested exhilaration, but the way his tone feel flat suggested it had left him as exhausted as Rilon currently felt.

The thought of being at the very top of the Tower made Rilon shudder.

_One thousand floors. Two miles high. One wrong move, and we would have both been dead, Edward._

_Oh, I know. I considered that._

Again, Rilon shuddered. He got to his feet, picking up the clothes, then set them on the sink off to the side.

He’d long figured out that his alter was everything he wasn’t, and especially one of those traits was fearless. It was as if he had no fears, if not very little.

Unfortunately, another trait among his no fears was that he wasn’t exactly moral, either. Although these little deeds Rilon wouldn't normally consider evil — mainly such as poking fun and playing little pranks at passersby in the lobby — they did, in fact, get very annoying after a while, especially as they were pretty repetitive.

“I can’t keep myself here for long, I hope you know.” Rilon stood before the mirror, staring hard at his reflection. “Please, just… leave me alone for a day.”

_I can’t make any promises._

Luckily, he was left alone as he changed.

He left the room, surprised at what his gaze met next.

His bed was made, of course — or, it had been. Asiah was passed out in a tangle of blankets, as though that small task alone had been enough of a trigger to knock him out. It couldn’t have been that anyway… Rilon knew his brother’s recent reputation for staying up later than he promised. Last night had been simply one of those nights again.

It would be in his best interest just to leave him alone, although a reminder later would more than likely suffice.

Sighing, Rilon left his bedroom, into the main room of his apartment. The first decision he made was to head out onto the balcony. The sun had already risen, but fresh air would be enough to calm him.

He shut the glass door and locked it, locking him outside. He filled his lungs with the cold autumn air. Instantly, it calmed him, relaxed him, and very nearly knocked him over.

To steady himself, Rilon grabbed tight onto the railing, staring out toward the mountains, before drawing his gaze up to the sky, where the sun set, nearly halfway through the sky. Almost noon, it told him. Understandable that he slept in, with Hyde’s little antics the night before.

He felt a sense of euphoria overcome him there, and, for the first time, he relished the silence in his mind. Hyde had left him alone, which he could understand — he’d dealt with too much as of late.

However, he figured that it wouldn’t be long until Lear came to check on them both.

He flinched at that name.

He’d managed to use excuses to avoid him for the most part, but there were still some things that he couldn’t avoid.

For instance, today.

Nausea overcame him, making him sink to the floor of the balcony. For once, he thought that he was going to be happy, not trapped in a Tower with someone he had virtually feared in the earliest part of his life, and currently now… He wished that he could leave.

It wasn’t that easy.

“I failed.”

It wasn’t he that spoke, but the groggy voice of his brother.

“You okay?”

Rilon sighed, staring up at his brother, feeling hopeless. Yet, he forced a lie through his teeth, nodding with a pained, “Yes.”

Asiah came to sit down next to him, echoing Rilon’s sigh. “Listen, you don’t have to go with me today… unless I can convince Lear to give you some time to yourself.”

_I feel that it is going to be hard._

_He’s trying to redeem himself again. _Hyde muttered, not amused.

Rilon ignored him, nodding again. He watched for Asiah’s reaction, to which he found that there was none, or that he had hidden it quite well. He got to his feet and strode to the door, leaving his brother still sitting on the balcony. “Or, I can convince him myself.”

“I-” Asiah began to stammer, getting to his own feet. “But…” He couldn’t seem to find the words. “I know… You hate him. He’s hard on you, Rilon. You’ve been stressed.”

“_Oh, he’s more than hard on me_.” Rilon added under his breath as he unlocked the door.

As he accomplished his deed, he stepped inside and immediately went to his desk. There, he found his journal, discarded, forgotten. It had been waiting for him there, abandoned. The last date that he had written was over six years ago, nearly faded.

Rilon picked up his journal, dusting it off with a brief wave of his hand. Although he felt no compulsion to write in it, he picked up a discarded pen from his desk, hovering it over the page. His hand began to shake; he felt more of a compulsion to throw it across the room more than anything.

_“November 9th, 2663,_

_I’m just getting this bad feeling. Like the thoughts in my head are turning against me. Just this… odd feeling of premonition. I should be happy for my brother today, but it’s like… I can’t._

_This should be a normal thing. Anxiety is a normal thing for me. It’s my entire life, to say the least. Why don’t I feel… _normal_?_

_Any attempts in calming myself in recent minutes (such as writing too, mind you) have proved to be a fruitless effort._

_I guess… I’ll try._

_I guess I should stop before I worry myself more._

_-13:08. Rilon Emrys Arlett.”_

“I feel like you’re lying to me, Rilon.”

Rilon quickly shut the journal, throwing it and the pen upon his desk. His hands were still shaking with barely contained anxiety.

“I’m fine. Just excited.” He lied, nearly spitting through his teeth. Rilon hid his hands behind his back and smiled, although to his brother, he felt it looked more like a grimace. “It’s your birthday, why would I not be?”

Almost instantly, Asiah searched the look on his face and frowned. “I’m going to make your bed. Second attempt. If Lear comes, slap him for me.”

“_Gladly_,” Rilon snarled almost inaudibly through gritted teeth.

Luckily, in the short time that passed, nobody appeared at his door but a guard, who had been looking for Asiah.

As his brother entered back into the main room, he slapped his hands together and smiled directly at Rilon. “Okay, that is done, bed is made. Have you calmed down, Ri?”

Rilon nodded, which still, unfortunately, was still a lie. “There was someone looking for you. An Amil Karim? He’s the Vice President isn’t he?”

A brief look of horror crossed his brother’s face. “Oh him? Did he say why he needed me?”

Rilon shrugged, shaking his head and pulled a face. “Just _go_.”

Asiah nodded quickly, racing to the door. He slammed the door shut, and was followed by hurried footsteps and a panicked, “**_AMIL_**!”

_Friend, I suppose?_ Hyde spoke up, as if noticing that Asiah had left.

“If he is, I’ve never met him.” Again, Rilon shrugged, picking the journal up from his desk. He read over the last entry, and the foreboding returned to his mind, sending his heart to his throat. “But then again, I trust it’s a professional relationship.”

_Maybe_. Hyde didn’t seem so sure.

Rilon set the journal back on the desk and shut it. He pushed the feeling to the back of his throat and turned to the door. “Oh,” he muttered, attempting to calm himself. “Is my brother not allowed to have friends now, Edward?”

Hyde didn't reply; Rilon could picture him glowering at him.

Then he did speak.

_You don't have any._

“I-” Called out, Rilon opened his mouth to protest. He hadn't been able to make any in his early life, with the language barrier between him and his peers, but after what had happened with his mother, he had found it much harder to bond with anyone outside his family. Hyde wasn't wrong about that.

_Something wrong, Arlett?_

Rilon snorted; finally, he did come up with a reply.

“Fuck off, Hyde.”

After a while, Rilon found himself pacing in his bedroom, stuck in a dissociative trance. He was only broken by a knock on the bedroom door.

Abruptly, he stopped his pacing, heading over to his bed. As he fell upon it, he called, “Come in.”

“Listen, I...”

Immediately, he recognized the voice.

_Lear_.

“You come here to redeem yourself?” Rilon crossed his arms behind his head and stared at the ceiling. “Like every time before, it's not going to happen.

“_Ri_...”

“Don't try it.” Rilon turned his back on Lear. He opened his mouth to say more, but went against it. He figured that his threat alone was enough to silence him. “Don't even try it. I've remembered everything.”

Lear sighed, his breath shuddering. He sounded… guilty. Rilon never saw that in him — usually it was the emotionally strong Presidential figure that his father ought to be… unless… that was a façade as well.

Just the very thought of the lies made Rilon sick.

“I'm not going out. You're going to have to drag my dead body out if you really want me out there.”

_If it comes to that._ Hyde added. _I would rather it be his than yours, though._

Lear, still regaining his composure from the sound of the stuttering in his voice, didn't even bother to protest. Rilon smiles at the fact that he had stripped Lear down to what he truly was: a weak old man who couldn't even keep a secret as it had been.

Finally, Rilon shifted in the bed so that he could see his father.

The man had his head buried in his hands, muttering what could only have been insults to himself.

Under normal circumstances, Rilon would have gotten to see what was wrong.

These weren't normal circumstances.

Rilon felt strangely happy about it.

“I'll… I'll go fetch Asiah.” Lear still had his head in his hands as he disappeared.

Rilon sat up in bed, feeling relief wash over him. His father had left, but not for good. It was bad to wish that he would leave for good, but Rilon felt no ill will in wishing it, felt no guilt.

He smiled, watching the door with caution in case Lear changed his mind. He waited for several minutes, nearly irritated that his father had not shut the door.

_Lear's karma.._. Hyde muttered._ I won't complain and neither should you._

“I have a right to complain. I'm in a mood.”

_No excuse._

Then Hyde changed the subject.

_I know what happened. His motive._

Rilon tell back on the bed once more. He wasn't surprised that Hyde had discovered something new. His alter couldn't just sit there and do nothing. He had to go digging around some time.

“Oh yeah,” Rilon kept staring at the door from where he lay on the bed. He was too tired to care what Hyde had to say, but at the same time, he was interested. “What's that?”

_You look like his brother, Rilon. He took it out on you because he blamed himself, but didn't want it to show._

“Blamed himself for _what_? What happened to his brother that was bad enough he had to blame me?” Rilon had an excuse for forgetting that — he had been too young to remember.

He got up to shut the door when Hyde didn't reply, only for him to reply when he had locked it.

_An accident._

It wasn't a surprise to Rilon, but it struck him as though it had. His life was an accident magnet, wasn't it? His uncle, his mother, himself. Who would be next? His brother? His father?

_He was only protecting him. _The sorrow only rose in Hyde's voice, along with the vagueness of his replies. Over and over, he repeated his response, growing more and more distressed. He nearly sounded like Rilon, if it hadn't been for the tone of his voice.

“Hyde,” Rilon resisted the urge to bang his head against the door. “I need you to stop. Tell me what's going on.”

_They meant to kill you._

Again, the shock struck Rilon; this time it literally brought him to his knees. “_They_…” he didn't need to know who 'they' were. Even without context, he knew what his alter had been talking about.

He shook his head, helplessly reaching for the door handle. “I don't need… those memories back. I... don't want them. “

This was a deliberate act. Hyde wanted something from him, something in return, but for what? Rilon had nothing to give.

Did he want out?

He had nowhere to go if he did — Rilon had locked himself in. The worst Hyde would do was tear up his room, and even that would be fixable.

“I thought you were supposed to protect me.” He snarled, having long given up standing. Still helpless, he stared up at the door. Was his brother even coming, or was he still hanging out with this so-called 'friend' of his?

Either way, Rilon needed company. The voice in his head was no longer trustworthy. Didn't that mean that he himself was no longer trustworthy?

In a daze, Rilon fell back against the door. He no longer felt like himself. Four years, with Hyde. This had never happened.

“Ri? Um, Lear sent me...”

Rilon broke out of his trance, but didn't reply. At least Asi had returned, which made him hopeful.

“He said that… you weren't feeling well. I came up to… check in on you. You don't have to answer. Could you please unlock the door, so I can see that you're alright?”

“Don't you have a key?”

“Your bedroom has a different lock.” Relief came to Asiah's tone, knowing that his brother was, in fact, okay, even if he wasn't entirely all there. “Could you unlock it?”

“It's unlocked,” Rilon murmured. As his brother went to open the door, he quickly added, “But I'd rather you stay out there.”

He heard a quick protest before Asiah fell silent. A moment later, he slid back against the door, and said nothing.

At least Rilon wasn't entirely alone, and he was relieved to know that his brother had chosen his family over his friend, especially on what was meant to be the best day of his entire year. Yet, it almost made him feel terrible. Some days, Asiah was too sympathetic, too… empathetic. He sacrificed too much for Rilon.

“What about your… friend?” Rilon’s voice was hoarse, hardly audible. He knew that that was another thing his brother had sacrificed today.

“He… can wait.” Asiah sounded regretful. For a moment he had considered staying with his friend instead of coming to check on Rilon. Then panic rose in his voice. “I’m sure he’s got… better things to do.”

Uneasily, Rilon shook his head. He knew that was an excuse, but then again, it was a good one at least.

His brother was terrible at lying.

He heard Asiah’s head shift on the door, and an audible, longing sigh came from him. He didn’t reply, but instead fell silent.

Rilon stared at his hands, echoing his brother’s sigh. The feeling of foreboding returned to his mind, threatening to choke him. He was kept company by his brother, but had not rid him of his anxiety like he hoped it would.

Could there be something that could help him, or was the foreboding going to be a normal thing now, a thing he would have to live with?

“Asi… _I_…”

He couldn’t finish, not due to his anxiety, but rather due to the fact that he heard soft snores on the other side of the door. Asiah had fallen asleep, judging from the soft snores Rilon heard.

_It’s been… a strange day._

_I can agree,_ murmured Hyde. He himself had calmed down from his little act. _I’ll explain later._

“Later?” Rilon lowered his tone, cautious. He didn’t want to wake his brother, or worse, make him think that he was crazy. “No, Hyde. I need an explanation now.”

When he leaves, which, I don’t believe is going to be for a long while.

Rilon leaned his head back against the door, listening for any noise aside from the sound of his brother. There was nothing, so he shut his eyes, pacing his own breath with his brother’s. There, he lay in a dissociative haze for what felt like an eternity, until he was aroused by a sharp intake of breath, and his brother rising, away from the door.

“I’ll bring your dinner back for you.” He didn’t wait for a reply. “Unless you’re not hungry.”

Rilon nearly jumped as his brother shut the door.

How long had actually passed? Had he blacked out?

_Hyde_?

_You dozed off._

_How long?_

I don't know, but it’s definitely evening from the way your brother mentioned dinner.

Yawning, Rilon turned to face the window. It wasn’t exactly dark, but it wasn’t exactly light either. Twilight? It couldn't be past six or seven in the evening from that.

He got to his feet, stretching like a cat, hearing long-rested joints click — and painfully feeling them as well. Turns out that sleeping beside a door wasn't the best option.

Rilon turned to face his bed, which had been made as his brother promised. Slowly he paced toward it. As he did reach it, he brushed away a small crease that had found itself in the covers. Although such a thing would not have usually bothered him, it somehow brought Rilon a feeling of agitation.

Rilon sat on the bed and silently sighed. Only the thought of dinner being brought to him was the single thread keeping him from falling asleep.

He fell back on the bed, landing with a muffled thud. His head dangled off the other side, watching the upside down form of the city. The longing feeling he'd briefly felt was now suddenly dashed by an odd feeling of premonition.

Again, he rose from the bed and fixed the creases he had left there.

His hair fell out from where it had been fixed, and he took off his glasses, which suddenly felt foreign upon his face. He left them upon the bed.

For a strange reason, his coat also felt foreign upon his shoulders. He discarded that on the bed along with his glasses.

Now he felt much lighter, more _alive_.

He ran into the bathroom and locked the door behind him. A feeling of claustrophobia overtook him. He hadn't been aware of how small it had been until now; in fact, he didn't think he'd ever been here before.

Movement in the corner of his eye caught his attention. He turned his head accordingly, and...

Found his reflection.

He'd never seen his reflection before.

_It's a mirror, dumbass. Never seen one before?_

“No,” He replied, and found that it wasn't a lie. Of all the times he'd let himself out, he had never found himself in front of a mirror. “It was stupid anyway. “Plus, Arlett, I'm not a dumbass.”

_Please don't call me Arlett_. Rilon was less than amused by this point. Then his voice seemed to rise in panic. _Shit, I forgot to lock the door._

“Who's the dumbass now, Arlett?”

Rilon lowered his time again. I said don't call me Arlett. What part of that do you not understand?

Hyde shrugged, a sneer on his face. He was more involved in staring at his own reflection than involved enough to give an immediate response.

He looked… too much like his alter. The fading anxiety he could still find within his ice-blue eyes, and his hair wasn't enough of a mess to tell the two apart. He looked... too calm. He was only a fracture of Rilon's broken mind, nothing more.

Hyde wanted to be _more_.

Unsteady, Hyde grabbed onto the sink counter with enough force to nearly break it. A grimace contorted his face into something inhuman.

Suddenly, he didn't want to see his reflection anymore.

He heard the mirror shatter before he saw it, before pain registered in his hand. With a sharp intake of breath, he seized the sink again and fought back nausea.

_I'll show you more._

_Hyde_.

Hyde picked up a fallen shard, broken from his emotions, and held tightly onto it. Blood began dripping from his hand to the floor. He unlocked the door and left the bathroom.

Hyde, you're scaring me. You can't —

“I should be. Be grateful, Arlett.” Coldly, Hyde threw the door open, stalking into the main room of the apartment. Nobody was there.

_Good_.

Hyde was going to look suspicious, but didn't take any consideration into it. Casually he left the apartment, muttering curses under his breath. He stashed away the shard in one of his pockets and headed for the stairs.

The lights slowly began to dim as he reached his destination. A maze of a floor stood out before him, but fortunately — and thanks to Rilon — he knew the layout despite the darkness.

Vaguely, he searched his memories — no, Rilon's memories for what he could possibly know about Lear. He knew Lear never — or rarely — attended dinner after his wife died, often preferring to eat alone. He knew that his bedroom was near a window, from distant stares outside.

Hyde sniffed as he started his trek through the maze.

Lear was virtually going to be helpless.

It took several minutes for Hyde's vision to adjust to the darkness, but even then he still couldn't see well, and he got a sneaking feeling that he wasn't alone.

He was being watched.

Hyde stopped and stilled his breath. Her heard his heart's pace quicken, pounding in his ears.

He waited a few moments, but no response came. Hyde quickened his pace, but it did not ease his anxiety.

Mein Gott, _Hyde. What are you doing?_

“You should be grateful when you find out.” Hyde kept his voice low. It wasn't steady, though.

_Hyde… grateful for what?_

Hyde didn't reply.

There were footsteps.

They weren't Lear's.

Again, Hyde paused, sucking in a sharp breath.

_A guard, Hyde. Get out of there._

“Like hell I am.” Hyde quickened his pace, turning a sharp corner. Footsteps rapidly followed after him.

_Hyde, that's a guard. Get the hell out of there._

“Do you think I want to listen, Arlett?”

It was too late. Hyde had risen his voice too high for him not to be noticed. The footsteps behind him quickened, and he nearly caught off guard by a gunshot. A warning shot, he figured. He heard it sail past his head, and glass shatter.

A window.

He was near.

“_**Don’t**_. Don’t move.” The voice came from behind him.

“Are you going to shoot an unarmed man?” He held up his hands in mock helplessness and turned around to face a silhouette. “Is that even legal… guard?”

“J-Jastyn.” The guard stammered. “And you’re on the President’s floor.”

“Oh am I?” Hyde lowered his hands, forcing his expression flat. “You see, I’m just out for a stroll, and you have the audacity to shoot at me? Would you like your President knowing about this?”

“I-” Jastyn stammered. He saw that her silhouette shook her head.

“Then put your gun down and I won’t hurt you.”

She didn’t listen, instead raising her gun higher, straight at his head.

_She only obeys Lear, or Asi, or me. Your voice is too deep. You’re not an Arlett._

Hyde ignored her. “_Oh_, I’m an intruder to you?”

Jastyn’s breath quickened as he slowly approached. She obviously was new, inexperienced, a replacement for that other guard. One of his failed experiments.

_Experiments_?

Hyde needed to move quickly. It was likely that the President had heard the warning shot and would be coming soon. With guards.

This was going to make Hyde’s job so much harder than he had planned.

“Am I?” She was just an obstacle. Dispatch her and the job would be so much easier.

Yet he couldn’t reveal that he was armed too soon. She’d raise the alarm.

“Am I, Jastyn? Am I an intruder to you?” For a final time, Hyde repeated the question, losing his temper. “Would you shoot an armed man?”

“N-no.” Jastyn shook her head again. She dropped the gun, finally at her breaking point. “I wouldn’t.”

Hyde pulled the shard out of his pocket, away from her gaze. “That’s good.” he said. “I’m glad you wouldn’t.”

He hesitated.

Did she really deserve it?

It was one less person in billions. In seconds, her missing number would be replaced within seconds. It didn’t matter.

Did it?

_Get out of there._

_No. You can’t tell me what to do. This is my life, not yours._

He sucked in a breath, and quickly did what needed to be done. The guard collapsed in his arms, blood pouring out of the wound he had inflicted upon her, a slit in her throat that could have been small, yet he couldn’t tell otherwise.

_I just… killed someone. Oh my God, I just… _The panic was clear in Rilon’s tone.

“Get over it - it’s happened before.” The guard died almost as soon as he spoke those words. He felt a sense of guilt overcome him, one that very nearly moved him to tears.

He could not cry. Crying was a luxury that he could not afford.

“Sleep, Jastyn.” He lowered his voice, letting her fall to the ground.

He had to move quickly.

Hyde only brushed himself off, glancing around him. He stashed the shard back in his pocket again, quickening his pace.

His heart slowed as he approached a door. Unlike what he had expected, it was unguarded.

Does Lear expect to be safe in this maze? Not bloody likely.

“There’s someone out there.” The President’s voice was quiet; distantly, Hyde heard glass clink onto a table. “You can come in.”

He’d been expecting him.

Hyde hesitated, and his breath caught in surprise.

He knocked on the door for good measure.

Lear’s voice hitched with impatience. “I said you can come in.”

Hyde pushed open the door. He saw Lear stand from a small chair that had been seated in a far corner of the room.

As he shut the door, Lear nearly stumbled. There was a brief appearance of guilt upon his face, but it was gone before Hyde could be sure.

“You know me.” Hyde crossed his arms, leaning back against the door. “You recognize me — I can see it.”

“You’re supposed to be dead.” Lear stared at the floor. Hyde couldn’t see it, but there was guilt in his eyes. “You’re supposed to be-”

“Dead, I know.” Hyde cut him off. “May I come in?”

“Seeing as you’re already in, I don’t see why not.” Lear regained his composure but still appeared dizzy, sitting back upon the chair as though that were the last thing keeping him from falling over. He fixed Hyde with such a cold gaze that Hyde himself nearly fell over.

Slowly, Hyde strode over to Lear, watching as fear overcame him once again.

_I’m sorry, Lear_. Rilon was lamenting as though Lear had already died. There was going to be more lamenting once Hyde’s job was done. Unfortunately, for Hyde, he would have to stay hidden.

He pulled out another chair, one he suspected that had not been used for some time. Rilon’s mother could have been the only one, unless…

“You have — had — a brother, didn’t you?” He rested his chin in one hand. This was going to be very amusing.

“You should know,” Lear murmured. “You’re him.”

This man is delusional. Hyde got up from the chair and knocked it backward. He saw Lear flinch, and very visibly. The President opened his mouth to protest but decided against it. A grimace appeared on his face.

“Oh, I am?” Hyde chuckled, a very low, disturbing chuckle, as proven by Lear’s reaction. “I’m your brother? Your brother, who’s been,” he swung around, behind Lear, and bent over his shoulder. “Dead for years Do you believe in ghosts, Arlett?”

“Well then.” The panic rose in Lear’s tone once again. “I don’t.”

He wasn’t lying. The panic had left his tone.

“Then who am I?” He stood fully upright. “If I’m…” His voice change, lightened. Lear was sure to recognize this. “Not your brother?”

“My…” Lear’s voice was being smothered by panic. “Dear God. Rilon.”

This was enjoyable. Hyde liked them panicked. They didn’t get away as easily as they’d like.

He decided to keep up this act.

“You should expect these things to creep up on you eventually, father.” He stood before the President now, sneering. “Did you assume that you can run from such things forever?”

“ I-” Lear couldn't bear to respond, not properly, at least. “N-”

Hyde seized him by the lapels of his coat, pulling him upward so that they were face to face. Lear was dangling several inches off the ground, fighting helplessly.

“Did you expect your son to fight back, dear father?” He mocked. This was unlike Rilon — Lear would see through this ruse sometime.

With a free hand, Hyde took out the shard once again. This was a physical fight he wanted.

Unfortunately, Lear has seen what he had tried to do. With free hands he shoved Hyde away, falling into the floor with a dull thud.

This is the same man that killed two of Rilon's family members. It had nearly slipped Hyde's mind.

Yet, here, Lear didn't have a gun.

The hand that had held Lear now clenched into a fist, the other only helped tighter around the shard.

Lear took a hot minute to stand, and Hyde waited until he did so fully. Lear was bleeding from his nose but appeared unbothered otherwise.

In a final rush of adrenaline, Lear ran toward Hyde with any strength he had left. He barreled into him at full force, throwing them both to the floor. Hyde's head hit part of a bed stand; he heard a loud crack but didn't immediately register the pain.

_I'm going to die here._

Lear had both hands around Hyde's throat. Spots appeared at the edge of his vision.

This was what he hated — feeling helpless, incompetent. He felt his hand relax and drop the weapon, leaving him more helpless than before.

“Please,” the pain from his wound was beginning to register. “You wouldn't kill your son, would you?”

Lear wasn't fazed. Instead, his grip grew tighter. Hyde was sure there would be bruises in the morning.

If he survived.

Frantically, his hand searched for the shard, but it was just out of reach.

“I've killed before, and I'll do it again.”

“Oh, I see. . .” It was obvious, from a vague memory in Hyde's fading mind. “You think that makes you... so _formidable_.”

In a moment of weakness, Lear's grip loosened. Hyde's vision began to return.

“You see...” Hyde slightly inched away from the bed frame. His hand seized hold of the shard. “_I have too_.”

He attacked from the back, his hand swing right where he needed it. Lear visibly jerked, his release suddenly and completely relaxed. Hyde shoved him off and sat up, struggling for breath.

“Your only fault was trying to redeem yourself, _Lear_.” Slowly, Hyde's voice returned to its normal pitch. The world spun, which he attributed to the wound on his head. He must have been knocked harder on the bed frame than he suspected.

Hyde closed his eyes and let out a breath.

Either way, Rilon was coming back, whether Hyde wanted it or not.

The first thing that happened when he came was that he recognized the persistent throbbing pain in his head. How hard had he hit it when he fell upon…

This wasn't his room.

It took only seconds to realize that this was, in fact, Lear's room.

And he was covered in blood that most definitely was not his.

Everything he should have remembered was completely some dream, experienced by someone else.

_Hyde_.

He'd done this.

“Ri...” What could only be the dying words of a man stirred Rilon out of his feverish trance.

Scarcely a foot away lay Lear, staring off into space, having no choice but to do so.

This was Hyde's doing. This was Hyde's doing.

“Rilon.” He was still alive. Oh God, he was still alive. He didn’t appear wounded at first but upon closer inspection, he was lying in a pool of his blood.

Disregarding his pain, Rilon crawled over to his father. He struggled at first, but eventually, he eased him into his lap, muttering silent words of reassurance.

“I’m here.” He wouldn’t comfort a dying man who had wronged him, but his vows he had taken back in University meant that he had to help anyone, regardless of personal experience. “I’m here, Lear.”

“You wouldn’t…” There was so much hatred in those few words, that it made Rilon flinch. “You… killed…”

_You killed._

There was too much blood on Rilon to be just Lear’s. Hyde had killed before, perhaps only moments.

Lear would die in the arms of the man who had murdered him.

“I didn’t. I would never.” It was a protest in vain, but it was an attempt. Rilon would never hurt anyone, even Lear would know that.

“Then… who…?” Lear’s eyes closed, as if unable to stare right at Rilon.

“It wasn’t me, I promise.” Rilon continued even as his breath became the only one in the room. “It was…”

_It was me._

He couldn’t lie. It was he who had come to this floor. It was he who had intruded on his father’s privacy.

It was he who killed him.

He didn’t know how to feel.

Should he feel guilty? Should he feel comforted, knowing that his father, his childhood tormentor, was dead? Lear was gone.

Both his parents were dead.

At that moment, he had never felt more alone in his realization.

Everything was too painful — physically, emotionally, mentally.

The realization struck him that he'd forgotten how to get out of there. Hyde had gotten in, no problem, likely from an unburied memory in Rilon's subconscious mind, but that was him. Rilon could not remember anything, as if he were an entirely different person altogether.

He was stuck here.

It wouldn't be long until someone came in to check up on Lear, it wouldn't be long until someone discovered that foul play had been committed.

It made Rilon sick to his stomach.

I guess this is it. They'll see that I've been planning something all along. Everyone's going to know that I planned all this.

He stated back to where Lear lay, now completely lifeless. It hadn't been long, but his body had already started to go cold. Rilon brushed away hair from his father's face, very nearly flinching as though he would wake up again.

There was no reaction; Rilon relaxed, although felt terrible for doing so.

He moved away, standing. He was only there for a few brief moments, before leaving the room in its entirety.

For some unconscious reason, he guided himself out of the floor unseen. He collapsed in the elevator, the world spinning and his legs unsteady.

This was the only true chance that he had to gather the truth, the effects of the damage he had done to himself.

The back of his head was the most noticeable — it took up most of the thoughts of pain in his mind. He went to inspect it with a hand, and reeled, spitting in pain.

His hand came away almost completely red.

_Very nice._

He was fortunate to have not passed out already; he suspected that it was out of sheer terror that he still was awake, or Hyde's basic stubbornness.

The secondary focus of his attention was his neck, which felt as though it were already starting to bruise. It possibly was. From that, Rilon could tell that Lear had fought back — He wasn’t completely helpless before he died.

_Before... I killed him._

Helplessly, he fought back another wave of nausea and a further threat of unconsciousness. He couldn’t pass out now — he needed to get to his room before anything could be done and before anything was discovered.

Yet, he hesitated when the elevator came to a full stop. Still, unconsciousness threatened to take him out when he didn’t want it.

Unsteadily Rilon got to his feet, taking careful measures in seeing that it was his floor and nobody else’s.

Floor Ten. Thank God.

He stumbled out into the openness of the floor. Here, even if there were no guards within sight, Rilon felt exposed.

His room was just within safe walking distance of the elevator, unlike the stairs.

He was suddenly grateful that he had taken the elevator instead of the stairs.

Hurriedly, he shut the door and stumbled into the bathroom, locking it behind him. Relieved — and nearly unconscious — Rilon slid back against the door and closed his eyes.

It was over. It was all over.

Yet, somehow, he could not bring himself to rest. His brother would come, sure enough, and deliver the news.

Rilon stood up and stumbled the few steps to the sink. The few pieces of a shattered mirror brought him a broken reflection. It wasn’t enough for him to survey the actual damage, so he freed one of the largest pieces that he could from that mirror, and held it carefully in his hand.

He was right about the bruises. They lay in dark, blotched ring around Rilon’s neck. Lear had had a good stranglehold on him before he was thrown off.

The sight of those alone nearly mad Rilon vomit. Had Lear done this before to him, when he was younger?

Usually, he would say that his father couldn’t have been capable of these things, but now he wasn’t that sure now.

The throbbing in Rilon’s head had subsided to a dull ache — the wound hadn’t been as bad as he had suspected, and at worst he would have to stitch it up himself, after a good clean up.

Still, all of this did not compare to the crime that he had committed under the broken facade of his alter.

I hope you find out that I was protecting you.

“This doesn’t make any difference, Hyde.” Shaking, Rilon dropped the shard. Distantly, he heard it shatter into more pieces upon the floor. “This excuse won’t bring my father back.”

He fell back to the floor, the realization flooring him. The exhaustion he felt mentally escaped into the form of an angry, choked sob.

This day started well and ended terribly.

For Asiah… _this_…

It was his birthday. What would he think of this, his father, murdered, on his birthday, or his brother killing him?

Asiah would never figure out the latter, at least, as long as Hyde was hidden away in the depths of Rilon's mind, away from the public eye.

Rilon knew how fast news of a President's death spread, no matter the circumstances, but a President hadn't been murdered in… perhaps nearly a century.

He shivered at a knock on the door. It was quick, almost begging.

Distressed.

"Asi?"

" Frei? " Asiah hadn't used that name in a long while - it could only be him. "Are you - are you alright?"

Where he could usually force up a lie, it did not come to him. He shook his head, before realizing that Asiah could not see him from behind the door. “I’m… not so sure.” he murmured. “Are you?”

Asiah hesitated to reply. “I… received some news.”

Rilon flinched awake. He knew.

“I…. It’s Lear.”

“Spit it out.” Rilon spat, a sudden crack of pain splitting his head. He let out a groan, unable to forgive himself. “_Asi_.”

“Someone found him, Rilon.” Asiah’s voice sharpened, desperately attempting to hide the distress in his voice. “Along with a guard.”

Jastyn. Hyde hadn’t spoken the name - it was a vague remembrance by Rilon only, almost like a dream. Say it, Asiah. Just say it and get it over with.

“You’re…” He sighed again, almost with embarrassment. “You’re President now, Ri-”

“No.” That wasn’t what Rilon was expecting to get as a response. He was going to respond with that, anyway. “Asi… _I can’t_.”

“But you’re-”

“The eldest child of the President.” He had heard it a million times, over and over again. Yet, he felt guilty, filling the shoes of someone who had tormented him in his childhood. He didn’t feel ready to do that.

He sighed, collecting his thoughts. “You do it.”

He sighed, collecting his thoughts. It was at the same moment that a new thought came to his mind. “You do it.”

"Wh-_what_?" Asiah's voice rose an octave - He wasn't expecting this. "I'm not… fit. I'm not… I'm not the eldest."

Out of all the things that Rilon wanted to say, protesting wouldn't cut it. Protest met with protest never worked out. He kept his mouth shut. Asiah's problem was bound to resolve itself with some thought.

Asiah slid back against the door, a quieter sigh escaping him. He didn't even protest as well.

"Oh, God." Rilon's response was out of nowhere, provoked by nothing. "Oh, _Mein Gott. Oh, Mein Gott_."

He buried his face into his hands. How nonchalant Asiah seemed compared to him, how… desensitized.

He couldn't take it any longer.

When he was sure that his brother wasn't listening, he released every pent up emotion into a single, frustrated scream.


	11. Chapter Ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rilon has some duties to uphold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maybe mild trigger here too for needles but not a big one like last time.

He didn't leave the bathroom for an eternity, but he had to leave at some point. It would seem too weird for him to stay there all night.

Rilon waited until Asiah had gotten up from the door in defeat. They weren't going to try to reason with each other any further.

Rilon discarded his bloodied clothes in a trash can — he figured he could discard them somewhere better later — exchanging them for new, nearly identical ones. His glasses and coat, however, were still on the bed, where Hyde had supposedly discarded them awhile go.

Rilon cleaned himself up as much as he could and got changed. He cleaned up what had been the mirror, but picked up one piece and decided to keep it. Why he did, he didn't know.

He stole a glance at it, not surprised to find that what he had changed into did not hide the signs of Hyde's fight with Lear. He still needed to fix up the head wound, before it entirely slipped his mind.

Rilon would have to find a needle and thread… there had to be some in this Tower, for sure, if not in his apartment. Rilon could not recall whether he kept any here.

He strode into the main room, heading for the desk. The shard he still held in his hand he left in a drawer, abruptly shutting it at a voice.

“Did you make up your mind?”

Asiah had never truly left his apartment.

“My... my mind?” Rilon stammered. Something else had slipped his mind. He couldn't exactly remember what he had forgotten, but when he turned to his brother, the glare he was sent quickly sent his thoughts back. “Oh.”

He turned, leaning upon the desk, which creaked under his weight. “I thought I told you no. Did you not understand?”

“You can't just reject something as big as this, Rilon. It is — are you sure you're alright?”

For a moment, it had not occurred to Rilon that his brother could see what happened. He abruptly stood from the desk and turned away so that his brother could not see him. “I told you — _I'm fine._”

“Lear didn’t hurt you yesterday, did he? Is that why you were hiding behind the door?”

“Asiah,” Rilon wasn’t lying as he further added, “No. That was from something else — this was from something else.”

“But… he didn’t, did he?”

“No.” It wasn’t exactly the truth, but wasn’t a lie, either. “Asi, can we please change the subject?”

“I — sorry. Rilon, you have to make up your mind about the Presidency before someone suspects something.” As he wished, Asiah changed the subject, but it wasn’t a subject that Rilon wanted to touch upon either.

“I already made my mind.” Rilon whipped back around and nearly stomped over to his brother. “I’m saying that you should do it.”

“And I’m saying that I’m not fit to do it.” Asiah retorted, making an effort not to raise his voice. From what Rilon could hear, it was nearly an effort in vain. “You were prepared for this, not me.”

Hardly prepared. Lear seemed more intent on making his life miserable than preparing him for the Presidency. Asiah was just too blind to that.

“_Yes, make a mentally ill man President, what a great idea_.” Rilon backed away to his desk and leaned back against it. He sucked in a breath and let it out slowly through his nose in a passive-aggressive move. “_A very great idea_.”

Asiah ran a hand through his hair, echoing Rilon’s act almost mockingly. “First full day without both parents and it’s already gone to hell. I guess we were way too dependent on them.”

_Maybe for you._ Hyde retorted, a stinging remark in Rilon’s mind. For once, Rilon could agree. While Rilon had been in school, he’d hardly any help from his brother, mainly either out of ignorance or just the strong language barrier between them both. Not once in University had Rilon asked for help from anyone.

Asiah had a point in him taking the Presidency for himself, but there was only one obstacle keeping Rilon from actually taking it — the fact that he would be filling the shoes of someone he hated, despised. Someone he had killed.

He just felt too guilty.

“You really wouldn’t understand,” Rilon shut his eyes and chuckled, then shaking his head. “And for once, that’s a good thing. You just need to take it. I’ll work behind the scenes, help… somehow.” This was getting more depressing the more he went on about it. Rilon still had other things — more important things — to get to than just petty chit-chat.

“First Lord, then.” Asiah sighed. “Alright.”

What Rilon wanted him to do finally came true, as his brother finally gave up arguing with him, and left the apartment without another word.

As the door shut, Rilon got the sinking feeling that he was potentially forgetting something. Mentally he rebuked himself, knowing that what he had forgotten was important.

It finally took a sharp, stinging retort to himself to snap back his memory.

_Needle and thread. Dammit. I need a needle and thread._

He supposed at best there would be some in his cabinet. At worst, he would have to go searching for some around the Tower.

He despised this. Some days he wished his hair had been shorter. It would make things so much easier.

Today, unfortunately, was one of those days.

Without a mirror, Rilon found that it was a struggle to get the stitches in as they needed to be. Most times he'd gotten several inches off, others he missed his head completely. After a while, he was about ready to give up, when he gave it one last shot, and got it.

It wasn't the most comfortable job, but he supposed that this was one of his costs. Comfort was a luxury that he could not often afford.

At long last, he finished, taking the spare pair of scissors he had found at the back of his cabinet and snipping off the remaining thread. He pulled the stitches tight, wincing, then tied the end of the thread.

Rilon prayed that it would stay, just long enough for it to heal at least partially, or long enough for anyone not to take notice.

Unfortunately, the bruises around his neck were enough to cause concern from just a glance, and too late had Asiah already noticed them and had gotten worried.

He stole a glance back out the window from his bed, tossing the now-empty thread spool away. It landed without noise or out of earshot, but with a glance, Rilon spotted nothing in his room.

He fell back upon the bed and winced again. All he wanted to do was sleep, but an unknown external force was keeping him from doing so — the overwhelming feeling of numbness suddenly took over him. He hated what it could do. It was supposed to lull him to sleep, to help him forget what he was externally feeling, not keep him awake.

Personally, Rilon hated when this happened — this overwhelming feeling of numbness, even on the best of days, he found himself just unable to feel anything.

This was one of those moments. The guilt returned to him, and he muttered impatiently under his breath.

He has decisions to make, and not all of them were fair ones.

_First Lord_. That title felt foreign on him. _Lord Arlett._

It felt strangely familiar to say the title, and no wonder it had brought him so much disgust. His father had held it at one point in his lifetime.

He spat it out audibly, with more distaste than he had ever felt in his lifetime. “Lord Arlett. Stupid, petty title.”

Rilon got up from the bed, muttering the title over and over until it felt less and less foreign to him. Still, it felt disgusting to say, knowing that his father also had held that title, although before Rilon was born.

Still, he didn't like it at all. He wanted nothing to do with the change. He was fine with his current title; this “_Lord_” business was too formal. It made him sound too mature and distasteful.

His thoughts escaped him and left his mind empty once more. Unable to stand any longer, Rilon crumpled to the floor in a heap.

He began tracing at the floor, marking intricate equations that should have escaped his mind from years back. When that had grown boring, he folded his hands in his lap and shut his eyes.

Usually, his escape, his mind space would come to him easily, but now he found it harder than he should. It was something that was supposed to naturally come to him when he was overwhelmed and overloaded.

Was Hyde doing this?

Rilon took his hair down, opened his eyes, and shrugged. “Is this what you want, Edward?”

He kept his voice low on an effort for nobody to hear him.

His ruse didn't work; Rilon quickly fixed his hair back up and stood.

Still no response.

Frustrated, Rilon sulked into his main room, over to his desk. He picked up the journal that had lain on his desk, abandoned, and a pen, which also appeared to be unused.

Quickly he wrote in it,

_“November 10, 2663_

_What do you want from me?”_

Rilon refused to sign and time it, fearing that it would take up too much of his idle time. Nobody was going to read it but him, anyway.

He set the journal down, still impatient and frustrated at the lack of response.

_I want you to understand what I was doing._ Hyde's voice was quiet; he was mentally drained as Rilon was.

“You didn't have to kill my father. The point was already proven.”

_He still could have gone after you, Rilon. What are you, blind? It was obvious that he was up to something._

“I'm fine on my own, _thanks_.” Rilon picked up the journal and the pen, finally bothering to add the time and signature.

_“02:21, Rilon Emrys Arlett.”_

_I read your journal. Why did your name become so… plain?_

“Why were you reading my journal? You should know that’s private.” He sighed. Hyde may be his other personality, but he sure wasn’t him if that’s how it was going to go.

_Rilon, I asked a question._

“Is there something wrong with my name?” Rilon set the journal and pen back on his desk. “At least it's Rilon, and not Henry or Gabriel, or God forbid,” he sneered — this was intentional. “_Edward_.”

_Oh, dear God_. Mentally Hyde must have been rolling his eyes. _You do have a point… please shut up before I strangle you._

“You almost got that down.” It was a terrible joke, and Rilon knew that. At least he was trying to lighten the mood, or, at the very least, change the subject.

He wasn’t even going to try to hide the bruises — he’d given up on that when he’d stitched up his head. What people were going to assume, and at the worst, he’d get an ask or a passing muttering behind his back. All he could do was not care in the least. This was his own business.

The room was getting too small for him. When he left, Asiah was hanging around across the hall, joined by a man that looked to be of Middle Eastern descent. They both were involved in quiet mutterings with one another.

“Asiah?” Rilon saw him startle as he spoke — he hadn’t heard him leave the apartment. “Who’s this?”

“Oh? You don’t know him?” Asiah stood fully upright and crossed his arms. He was trying not to panic. He was avoiding Rilon’s gaze, sending helpless glances to the other man as if hoping for a response. “Vice President, Amil Karim?”

Amil himself was shorter than Rilon, around the same height as Asiah, yet he held himself with such maturity that nearly eclipsed Rilon. He held out his hand expectantly.

Rilon quickly calmed himself and took his hand. After a brief handshake, he stared back at the floor.

“So,” he murmured, then turning his gaze toward Asiah. “Still the Vice President I’m guessing, from what you were talking about?”

“You could put it like that.” Asiah scratched the back of his head, muttering something incomprehensible under his breath. He sent another glance to Amil. Amil nodded back. A silent message that Rilon couldn’t decipher passed between the two of them. Amil nodded back but said nothing. Before Rilon could protest, they headed off down the hallway.

“Well,” Rilon murmured, sighing. “What do you make of this, Edward?”

_I don’t want you calling me Edward anymore. _Hyde pouted.

“Fine, Hyde. Answer my question.”

_I haven’t met him, so I don't know. _

Exasperated, Rilon muttered a curse under his breath. “You’re no help.”

_You’re welcome._

The two were still heading down the hall as Rilon watched them. He thought he felt a pang of jealousy strike him, but he couldn’t be so sure of himself. He couldn’t trust his emotions much anymore. Especially jealousy.

Jealousy, Rilon knew, was a stupid thing to feel, for over friendships that he never had, over romantic relationships that he would never get into. Long ago, he had especially denounced the latter, favoring his studies over it. He figured that romantic affection was something some people felt and other people did not.

Rilon knew — and he had for a while now — that he fit into the category of those who did not.

Amil is only a friend of his, Rilon turned back to head for his rooms, reassuring himself in vain. Just a friend, that is all. You need to get your head together, please.

When the door had closed behind him, Rilon slid back against it, drawing out a long breath as he did so. There was this emptiness inside him that he couldn’t explain, but, at the same time, it felt normal. Painfully normal.

_Did I just… skip everything and head right for the depression part of grief, because it sure fucking feels like it._

_I-_

Rilon cut Hyde off before he could even start. “I don’t want it.”

_Ar_-

Rilon, bared his teeth in an effort to keep his voice from rising. “What did I say, Edward?”

_I’ll… shut up… and leave you alone._

As Hyde fell silent, Rilon let out another sigh. It shuddered, full of the emptiness he felt.

Finally, he was free in an empty mind.

It was too empty, too quiet.

The silence made his ears ring, overpowering all of his senses. He got to his feet, covering his ears as though that would help him.

Rilon stumbled to his desk and uncovered his ears. He slumped down as the ringing gradually died off, quietly murmuring to himself.

"_Mir geht es…_" the final word on his reassurance escaped him for a split second. "_Mir geht es gut_."

It didn't seem to reassure him much, but at least it had brought a small amount of peace to his mind. He repeated it to himself for good measure.

The simple phrase was interrupted by Hyde, who muttered, are you finished, quite impatiently.

Rilon laughed humorlessly. "Give me six months at the most, then maybe I'll let you speak again.

Hyde gave another incoherent grumble, then fell silent.

“Oh,” Rilon rolled his eyes, drawing out the word. “You think that I seriously mean tha’.” He mockingly imitated Hyde’s tone. “Do you, dear Arlett?”

_I will fucking murder you._

“I’m glad you don’t take me seriously.” Rilon let out a deep, hearty laugh. “I’d be scared if you did.”

Again, Hyde let out a grumble. He sounded more impatient with this one. _You don’t appear so. I'd say, after what happened, you —_

Rilon abruptly stood from the chair. His temper had grown shorter in a second. “I don’t want to hear about it. Not about Lear, not about my mother, _nobody_.”

_I thought you would like to hear what happened to your mother, or, at the very least, the fact that I know._

_The very fact… Isn’t it obvious that I’d go digging around eventually?_

His alter’s words came to him from a long while ago. Had he mentioned then also he knew about his mother? Had Rilon ignored him then?

_How sad to see that you keep this from me. Why so, if it’s your most painful one?_

This was all some game to Hyde. This was funny — wasn’t Hyde supposed to be protecting him instead of toying with him.

_Is this why you’re so afraid, Arlett? Is this why you have never left the Tower?_

“_**STOP**_!” The outburst surprised even his, startling him out of the chair. Rilon nearly threw it as Hyde pressed on. His breath was heavy; he fought back the urge to smash the balcony window as well. “Please, I need you to stop.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose and adjusted his glasses, waving his free hand absentmindedly as if to dismiss his anxieties. “You know what? Forget it. You know, and that’s all that matters, alright, Edward?”

_Hyde_. The voice snarled quietly, frustrated that his plan did not go as he had hoped.

“Edward Hyde,” Rilon corrected himself only partially, frustrating his alter more. “Oh, how you should have chosen a better name.”

_Fuck off._ Hyde pouted. He fell silent again, and Rilon shook his head.

Right now, he didn’t know what to think of Hyde. He was as split on the decision as he was in his mind. He could nearly reel from it — it was making him sick, and the longer he waited, the sicker he would get.

Rilon couldn’t afford to get any sicker.

He sat back down in the chair with a mutter. It was lost to him what it meant as soon as it was spoken, but Rilon supposed that it didn’t really matter. Forgetting this wouldn’t exactly matter in the long run.

_Unfortunate. Sole witness. Frustrating, isn’t it?_

“I need to concentrate.”

Hyde ignored him, as though he simply did not care._ Isn’t it, Arlett?_

“Drop the subject, _Edward_, and we won’t have any further issues.”

_Are you sure that you want me to?_

“Listen here, you little prick, I really don't want to talk about this.” He knew that Hyde was attempting at getting a reaction out of him more than anything. This was at the top of his priority list.

Rilon ignored him, no matter how irritating his mocking voice was. He had his priorities, decisions to make, and delaying them wouldn't make them go away.

“Please, just let me concentrate.”

_I don't think I intend on doing that_. Hyde muttered, a clear taunt in his voice.

“Fine. Go ahead and ruin my life, if that's what you're after.” Rilon turned to his desk, eyeing the journal that lay there. He made no move to get it, but instead, waited on Hyde's reply.

He never replied; Rilon picked up the journal, where he found a journal entry, which had been dated nearly a fortnight previous. Rilon didn't recollect ever writing in the journal then, but when he saw the signature, similar to his but different in many ways, he knew.

“Hyde,” he let out a sigh, a very irritated one at that. “Didn't I tell you something about not touching my stuff?”

_No, I don't recall. _What Hyde said had been the truth, which only irritated Rilon further, but mainly at himself.

“Well, don’t.” Rilon set the journal back down and got up from the chair. “Just… don’t.”

_Fine, but don’t expect me to listen to you._

Briefly, Rilon smirked, but it faded, only to be replaced with a frown. He opened his mouth to reply but found that the retort was more than likely not relevant to the situation.

He headed to the cabinets near the door, rifling through them until he found what he was looking for: a familiar vial filled with red liquid, somehow without identification. The memories of that night flashed through Rilon’s head as he held it, and once again he felt the familiar urge to throw it against the wall, to rid himself of it, but yet, all the same, he felt drawn to it like that night, like before that night, where he had found it.

What nobody knew was that he had stolen it from University after being drawn to do so for many months. He had hoped that nobody would notice that the two or so vials were gone, but somebody had. After a brief investigation and several interviews — which Rilon had successfully lied his way out of each time — the search was deemed pointless and called off.

That was the only time Rilon had such tendencies, which he had claimed at the time to be driven by some voice in his head. Crazy to think now that he knew who the voice may have been.

_You’re not exactly good, either, Arlett. _Hyde’s voice startled him out of his trance. _And to think that you were the good brother._

“I am,” Rilon forced down any negative emotion in his voice. “I just… it wasn’t my fault.”

_Of course not._ Hyde didn’t believe him. Rilon refrained from retorting and set the vial down onto the countertop. _It was the little voice nagging in the back of your head that keeps telling you to do it, nagging you to do things that you shouldn’t._

“Alright, that’s enough poetry for one day.” Rilon picked up the vial, staring hard at it. “Shut up before I make you.”

_You wouldn’t._ Rilon nearly burst out laughing as panic rose in Hyde’s voice; however, Rilon began to panic, but he forced it down hopefully before Hyde noticed.

“Oh, trust me… _I would_.” The very thought of dying made Rilon’s breath hitch in fear. It was an empty threat, and they both knew it. “I can and I fucking will.”

Eventually, fear made Rilon store the vial back in his cabinet. Slamming the door shut, Rilon held tightly onto the countertop, panting in a vain effort to catch his breath. He suddenly did not even believe any of his threats, especially the one he had made only moments before.

_Scared, Arlett?_

Rilon let go of the countertop and his hands fell to his sides. His breath caught, but he swallowed any fear, dashing out the flames as if he had blown out a mere candle. “No. I’m not scared.”

_I’m fucking terrified._

He made sure that Hyde heard him, loud and clear.

Rilon pulled out his hair and ran a hand through it, his breath shuddering. Nausea rose in his throat, and he welcomed it. It dashed his fear quicker than any other anxiety-ridding tactic would do; it was nearly an anxiety-ridding tactic in itself.

Suddenly, he fought back the urge to vomit, leaving the countertop and running to the bathroom. The sink was the closest thing he could get to.

His heart was pounding in his ears, drowning anything else, especially background noise. He looked up, and almost felt rage as it dawned on him that he still had no mirror. It had been broken in Hyde's rage, a shard of it used in the making of Lear's demise.

The thought of that made Rilon even sicker.

_Get it together. He's gone. You should be relieved. _What was supposed to be a reassurance nearly made him lose it; a frustrated, terrified wail escaped from his throat, echoing through the confines of his room. Rilon didn't even care if anyone heard him. He would reject any help that came, anyway.

_The only thing you should be glad about is that your brother can't see you like this._

Hyde was right. Asiah's presence would only frustrate him. Rilon feared that they'd fight over the childish emotions he had. Tensions were already high between them; he didn't need more.

With some relief, Rilon sunk to the ground, but he still felt as sick as ever. The idle time he was wasting brought more fear into his mind — his breath caught again, and he stood.

As he returned to the main room, he picked up his discarded hair tie from the countertop and redid his hair. Some normality made him feel better, but not by much.

The escape of his room was too much at the moment — in fact, it no longer felt like an escape, but rather a prison.

Rilon flung himself outside into the hallway, slamming the door behind him. Instantly, he felt relief at the release of his prison. The fact that he was — mostly — alone was more releasing than not. He nearly flew down the hallway, fueled by euphoric joy. He didn’t want it to run out, but, as all things had to, it had to end.

He turned a corner, nearly collapsing against a wall. The euphoria had left him, but the happiness had not. He stifled a laugh as he slid back against the wall, sitting down to catch his breath.

_You know you forgot something._

“Shut up, I’m happy.” Rilon ignored Hyde altogether, burying his face in his hands and giggling like a child. “I rarely get days like this.”

After giving himself some time to calm down, Rilon caught his breath and stopped to rebuke himself for being so childish.

But he stopped and shook his head.

_Nah_… He sniffed, letting out another, yet short-lived, childish giggle. I did nothing wrong.

“Ri?”

Rilon startled awake from his desk. Groggily, he shoved out a breathless reply. “I’m up,” he muttered, wiping away specks of drool from his face. “What is it?”

“Get ready.”

It was Asiah. _Who else could it be?_

“For… what exactly?” Rilon suspected, but he didn’t exactly know. So much has happened lately, and especially things that his brother didn’t even remotely know.

Asiah sent Rilon a glare, and he flinched. “_Oh_...” It came to him, accompanied by a sickening pang. He sighed. “Right.”

Noting the way that Asiah had not pushed him further, he only needed to do the basics, mainly fixing up the mess of himself. He didn't need to change.

Yet he didn't want to, fighting back the urge to tell Asiah that, but he couldn't go about telling him why in case his brother questioned him.

Rilon would have to put on this facade of grief and go about his day knowing what his brother saw wasn't rather grief, but guilt.

“I'll wait outside… give you time.” Asiah gently patted Rilon's shoulder, before Rilon heard the door shut seconds later.

He would think that the loneliness would be more comfortable, but somehow it wasn't.

_I'm contradicting myself, aren't I?_ Rilon sat straighter in his chair. He shook his head, throwing away the thought. No, I'm not.

He got up from the chair and headed to the balcony door. As he slid it open, he dashed anything negative in his mind.

The cold air hit him in a sudden wave and nearly threw him back inside. Rilon shivered against it, pushing himself forward to the railing.

He gazed out onto the city, which had grown unusually quiet for this time of the morning. Rilon knew that the streets would soon be crowded, mourners coming from around the world as they usually did.

The very thought that they did not know what Lear had done made Rilon shudder with disgust. These people would mourn a man that had become so cruel in Rilon’s heart. It was disgusting.

_Disgusting_. The word made Rilon choke back another sob.

He wasn't going to get ready. He wasn't going out among those streets for a man he would not mourn. He wasn't going to mourn a man who never genuinely loved him.

He clutched onto the railing, catching his breath, letting out a low, deep sigh through his nose. This was going to be stressful. He couldn't let himself get stressed — this was a stupid time to get stressed. Rilon smacked his forehead multiple times to remind himself that.

No, he would not rebuke himself in such a way. There he was, contradicting himself again.

The sight of the city was making him think too much, but he couldn't head back inside — there he would have to talk to his brother.

_There's no way out of this._

“Glad to hear that you're up.” Hyde's threat meant nothing, not at this moment. Empty. He stood up fully and let go of the morning. “So how is it, knowing what will soon happen to you?”

_Me? I what now?_

“You were so in the moment that you never considered the repercussions, didn't you?” Rilon had to be honest — he was in the moment, a different kind although feeling great about himself. When Hyde didn't immediately reply, he repeated his question. “Didn't you?”

Still, Hyde did not reply, which only frustrated Rilon further.

“Fine, be that way.” As he headed inside, it took everything for him to not slam the door. His breath once again steadied, then caught as he noticed Asiah sitting on his countertop. Fear that he may have seen him only quickened it.

Rilon bared his teeth and spat through a thinly veiled snarl, “I’m not going.”

“You’re going,” Asiah crossed his arms, mocking Rilon’s snarl. “And if I have to drag you outside, I will.”

“_Fine_,” As much as Rilon wanted to scream ‘no!’ and bolt for it, he didn’t, He mocked Asiah and pulled a face. “Do it. Drag me out there, _Feigling_.”

_Coward_.

The word brought him a strange joy when he spoke it, especially so when the person reacted. This was one of the very few words that his brother didn’t know, but with the context he had just been given, he knew now.

He regretted saying it.

“_Rilon_.” Asiah pointed to the bedroom door, eyes narrowed and blazing. “Get ready. You’re going.”

There was an unspoken message in his eyes, one that Rilon found too painful to look at for long.

_Whether you like it or not._

Rilon shook his head once more, but reluctantly stomped to his room like an angry child. He slammed the door behind him, locked it, and slid down it. His breath came to him in shuddering gasps, inaudible to his brother. After a moment, he took off his glasses, staring at them as though they had become foreign to him, then his hair for the same reason. Only when he heard his brother’s footsteps leave the room did he curl up, hugging himself tightly.

_Asi doesn’t know. If I’m like this, he never will._

What he had held back came spilling out into emotions, the one sob he had let escape multiplied into another; his eyes stinging with tears that he — frankly — should have cried earlier. His brother would have left him alone — now there was no way that he would be left alone now.

_God, I’m such an idiot._ Rilon wiped away the tears with a hand. I just… need to get myself together. _I can do that, can’t I?_

_I condemned a man to Hell. You’ll be alright._

_No, I won’t. No, I won’t. No, I won’t._ The thought was toxic in itself, spreading like a plague in his mind. It became the only thing in his mind, sickening him. _I won’t be alright._

_You’re sounding like the idiot you’re telling yourself to be. Get yourself out there, and fucking deal with it._

“You know…” Rilon’s breath shuddered as he attempted to regain some of his pride. “Two days ago, you killed my dad, and yesterday, you knew what had happened to my mother. Don’t even start ruling my life when you have your own.”

Hyde grunted, the only sort of protest that he would give.

Rilon braced himself on the door as he began to stand, picking up his glasses that he had dropped, then setting them upon his face. He left his hair down, too lazy to do anything with it. It lay in a tangled mess, falling about his shoulders. His mess of self would be worth Asiah’s complaints — his brother could keep those thoughts to himself.

Rilon opened the door, stepping into the main room and sucking in a deep breath.

_They won’t know. I can take care of myself._ He told himself, relaxing.

It would be less stressful if he didn’t think about it, and, in case he did, Hyde would easily slip out and take over… guaranteeing that he didn’t take over and kill someone. He wouldn’t do that to an innocent person.

Rilon forced back the vague memory before it could take over and sicken him again.

_Memorial for my dead father… never thought I’d hear those words as soon as I have. Dead father? Good._

He didn't even want to know what Lear had done in his childhood. From what he'd seen in Asiah, he didn't know, either. His only likely witness has been his mother, but she was dead.

There was another person, also vague in his memory, but he figured that it wasn't likely that they knew, either.

_It doesn't matter._ Rilon repeated to himself as he left his apartment. _It doesn't matter, as long as he's gone._

"You should keep your hair like that." Asiah sniffed in amusement, although there was an underlying tone of sarcasm in his tone. "Suits you."

"Don't bother," Rilon muttered, running a hand quickly through his hair in exasperation. “I’m not getting ready any more than this. We need to get going.” He forced his voice flat, but it broke with panic and nearly squealed.

“At least let me -”

“No. You’re not brushing my hair.” Rilon walked ahead of his brother, tense with stress. Again, he ran a hand through his hair, messing it up more, although it was not to irritate his brother more. “You’re not doing anything to me at all.”

Without his brother, Rilon took the stairs to the lobby. He received stares as he entered, and he had suspected as such, with how ragged he looked.

“Rilon,” When footsteps nearly tripped, Rilon whipped around to face the person who had called his name. Asiah, of all people, was panting, attempting in vain to catch his breath.

_Funny_. Rilon had never heard him following him on the stairs, unless… he had taken the elevator. Asiah wasn't breathless from running — he was having a panic attack.

"Asiah," Rilon nearly broke into a run as well, but Asiah caught him before he could do so. He collapsed in Rilon's arms, faint. "You're an absolute idiot."

"I am," Asiah hadn't passed out — thankfully — but he appeared as though he was about to. Rilon hadn't been the only one affected by stress.

Rilon flashed glares at anyone who had happened to stare; those people looked away, pretending that they had never even seen the two.

“If you don’t want to do this, I can always go in place -”

“No.” Any trace of what Asiah had shown before was gone, and he shoved himself away from Rilon and dusted himself off. “I can do this, and, the last time I checked, you’re not the President, _Frei_.”

Again people turned to stare at the brothers, before being dismissed by both when they sent them slit-eyed stares.

Asiah stumbled toward the lobby doors and nearly threw them open before seeming to realize their momentous size. He threw them open with what he could and stormed out into the gathering crowd.

_So much for trying to comfort him, dear Arlett._

Rilon could not reply, with all the stares he was getting from the crowd, as pissed off as he was from that remark, though, silently, he prayed Hyde would get him out of there in some way. It wasn’t a thing he could will up, though. Hyde decided when it was his turn; Rilon had no control over the changes.

He shrugged, letting out a low snarl. He nearly mimicked Asiah, storming to the doors of the lobby.

Yet he found himself more hesitant than his brother had been when he took hold of the door handle. Nobody stared at him then in his most vulnerable moment, although he still felt the burning in the back of his mind, which still made him sick.

He didn’t like that the impending doom of the outside wasn’t the thing that was bothering him the most.

_Get it past you, Arlett. _He rebuked himself with a snort, and threw open the door, into the outside world.

The cold air was the first thing to hit him, even before the realization that he was outside. Rilon was moved to shivers, gazing around the expanse of the city.

It would be even more crowded soon.

Instead of fear, he felt a strange excitement, that he found suspicious. It stole his breath, almost sending him to tears. The childishness he felt, he knew, made him look stupid to people staring at him.

_Is this excitement, or is it fear?_

He started on the path outside the Tower, glancing around in a hurry for his brother. The path became a street, a narrow street.

Rilon now knew what he was feeling. The excitement he once felt was now dashed by worry.

_Not this. Not this, please._

He kept his head held high, even when his heart rose his throat.

_Where would someone like Asi be?_

This was a rich part of the city, so Rilon figured he couldn’t have gone far. Asiah only spoke about the tall buildings that he could see from his window, and rarely, his escapades from the dinner table to go outside.

One building in particular - a skyscraper about a tenth the size of the Tower and about the same size as wide - caught Rilon’s attention, distracting him briefly from his panic. There seemed to be a crowd gathering before a podium, which stood near the middle of its lobby, behind a thin sheet of glass that Rilon suspected breakable with just a single, gentle tap.

He stilled his breath, stalking up to the building, praying that nobody was watching him. Through there he could see a man step onto the podium, a man that Rilon may have thought panicked if it weren’t for the confident way he held himself.

_Asi. It’s Asi._

Thrill replaced the worry inside him, but he didn’t tap at the glass to get Asiah’s attention - his brother had already seen him, but was glaring at him as he spoke. He made a small, angry gesture with his hands that the crowd did not appear to notice, telling Rilon to get inside.

Rilon nearly shook his head but refrained. He followed his brother’s instructions, walking a few paces down the street to the small rotating door. It brought him some joy to open it, and even more, restraint to spin around in it.

As he stepped inside, nobody turned to look at him, to acknowledge the mess that he was, which was good in a way, but it sent a pang to realize how insignificant he was seen is, probably as the messy, insignificant older brother.

_I’ll show them insignificant. They’re all staring at the murderer of their President. They should be grateful that he’s gone._

Rilon wanted to shout the words Hyde had spoken, feeling nearly euphoric as his alter spoke them. He could allow Hyde to take control, and show them his true self. The only problem stopping him was that they didn’t know that the murderer of their dear former President was a fragment of someone’s damaged mind, just an insignificant fragment, a person that the world didn’t know quite yet.

Rilon pushed his way through the small crowd, to the front, just before his brother. Asiah hardly acknowledged him as he continued his hurriedly-prepared speech.

“I honestly don’t know where to end - there are just so many things I could say. It’s going to be a long day for a lot of us - especially me and my brother -” He finally acknowledged Rilon, who visibly flinched and shuddered. “I just hope… we can get through this, as… I was not expecting to take on this role, but rather my brother.”

Again, Rilon flinched, hoping that nobody stared at him. He was very aware of how improper he looked in contrast to these people — he didn't need any more reminding. He visibly shrunk and fought back the urge to pull his coat over his face.

"He will be joining as my First Lord, and will succeed me shall any…" Asiah hesitated as if searching for the right word. "_Further incidents _occur."

_Don't piss me off, and no incidents will occur. _Hyde snarled; Rilon — unfortunately — could agree. He himself would never hurt his brother, but given what had happened with Lear, Hyde would.

Asiah finished his speech while Rilon had been lost in thought, dismissing the crowd, which then scattered like a flock of starlings.

"I could yell at you for how you look and make you look foolish, but that would be unsightly of your dear brother, wouldn't it?"

_He's starting to piss me off._ Hyde seemed to take back his earlier statement regretfully.

"At least I don't hide my grief behind cheerful sentiments, _Asiah_." Admittedly, Rilon was hiding, but it was guilt behind grief, rather than the other way around. Asiah just couldn't see it.

"Does this look cheerful to you?" Asiah's voice broke, from what likely was from the pressure of trying not to lose his temper.

_Don't_, Rilon willed Hyde not to expose him. This was the absolute worst time. _Don't even try._

_I can and I will._

"_Fine_." Rilon turned on his brother without giving a direct response, storming out of the building before Hyde could even try anything.


	12. Chapter Eleven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here's Hydey

When he came to in an alleyway, a frustrated scream ripped itself from his throat.

_Good morning to you, Edward._

Hyde gazed upward, the remains of the scream dying in his throat. What he had screamed for, he did not know, but God… the daylight hurt his eyes.

_I'm glad you restrained yourself._

“Well,” Hyde took off Rilon's glasses, staring at them in disdain. “Your brother pisses me off. Beyond….”

He muttered a string of curses under his breath, stashing the glasses on Rilon's coat pocket.

_Language, Edward._

“I'm not a _fucking_ child.” Hyde took off the coat after deciding that it was rather uncomfortable, throwing it over his shoulder and glancing around the alleyway.

He was nowhere near the main street, judging from the missing voices. His breath was the only thing that he could hear, alongside the blood pounding in his ears. Judging from that, Rilon must've gotten out of whatever situation in a hurry.

Even then, Hyde wasted no time getting out of the alley. He could find a crowd and blend in, and, at the very least, nobody could pick him out from all the sea of faces that didn't care.

A couple of passersby spared not even a glance at him as he emerged into the street, immersed in a silent conversation. Hyde was wary, watching them for any reaction, but they gave no sign of seeing him.

He decided to follow them and see what they were up to.

After some distance down the street, they merged into a large crowd and out of Hyde's sight. He pushed through after them, shoving those who might have gotten in his way.

They appeared to be in some city square, all in the same melancholy mood and dressed in black. Funeral? Memorial?

He was correct about the latter, which came to him and nearly threw him to the ground.

The President.

It was Lear.

He didn't want to care, and truly, he didn't, for what Hyde retained of Rilon's childhood was not…

He shoved the memories away, choked them down.

_Why do I have to be the one stuck with the trauma?_

Nobody knew what he was thinking, or had experienced, or even the fact that he was not a real person, but a fragment.

Or even the fact that the President 's murderer was standing among him, full of self-doubt. He didn't regret it, killing Lear, but the doubt was...

Again, he shoved the thought down. He was forgetting what his purpose was here, besides shoving Rilon away to the back of his mind.

_Forgetting what?_

_Meeting..._ He was meeting someone. Blending into the crowd had only distracted him.

He refused to rebuke himself for this mind slip. It was a simple mistake than anyone could have made.

He weaved through the crowd, back the way he had come. From there, he slipped back into the alley, where he allowed his thoughts to gather.

_Ott… Ottawa_. That was her name. The woman back at the hospital.

They had met in the five years between their first meeting and now, more times than Hyde would have cared to admit, and more times than Rilon would have approved.

Rilon didn't control him. He was his person; he had his own life.

_Think, Edward… where did she say? When did she say?_

He slapped himself multiple times, attempting to remember. It was too quiet for him to think properly, which sent him into ruffling his hair.

She had always met him in different places, always random, with no pattern. She seemed to know how much these things would frustrate him.

It was too… problematic.

He paced down to the other end of the alleyway, where he found fewer people there. Some were involved in idle chatter, while others just simply glanced at him and carried on.

Hyde supposed — from the empty carts lining the edge of the street he had entered — that on a normal day, this would be a small marketplace.

_It’s supposed to be a normal day_. Their voices were nearly synchronized, although Hyde found that Rilon’s was more distressed. He’d been in this place before, although a long while ago. He wasn’t saying what he was saying for today’s events.

He was stuck in the past, reliving an old, unwanted memory.

Hyde had forgotten to shove it back into the back of his mind along with the rest of his threats. It was Rilon’s mother’s murder.

She was murdered in a marketplace.

_Hyde, please get me out of here._

Non-verbally, Hyde agreed and quickened his pace.

How empty it felt, how desolate these streets were. The autumn wind seemed to blow hidden messages past his ear, ones he would never decipher in time for them to disappear.

“Get out of the way!” Hyde was suddenly yanked aside by someone and nearly crashed into one of the market stalls. He whipped around, ready to scold the person, when a carriage flew by, only inches from Hyde’s face.

_And I could have died._

“Jesus, we don’t need two people dying this week.” The figure shoved him away after he spoke, right back out onto the street. “One asshole is enough.”

“Are you calling me an asshole, _bitch_?” Hyde snarled to the man, who he had to turn his head to look up to him.

“Well, for one, you weren't paying attention.” The man glowered down at him, his golden eyes nearly blazing with annoyance. “For another, shouldn't you be with everyone else?”

Hyde wanted to retort but took in the strange detail. The man was wearing all red, and not black like everyone else. The man caught Hyde studying him and grimaced even more.

“Okay, fine, neither am I, but — do I know you ?”

Pulling a face, Hyde shook his head. “I have never seen you before, at least...” He hesitated, trying to recall any memory of his mind. Perhaps he was the man Rilon had long forgotten. “I don’t think I have.”

The man sniffed, shrugging. “Again, I might be remembering things wrong.”

He shoved past Hyde, stumbling out onto the street. He offered Hyde a long stare, studying him, then shrugged again.

Hyde turned to face him, but by the time he had done so, the man’s back was turned to him, and he was fumbling through his coat pocket. When he pulled out a small box, Rilon finally spoke again.

_That’s a matchbox._

“So?” Hyde muttered, quiet so as the man could not hear him. “Does it have any significance to you?”

_I know him._

“Faust?” It was Rilon’s question but in Hyde’s voice.

The man turned around to face him, nearly dropping the matchbox. “Oh, so you do know me.”

Hyde stammered, shaking his head erratically. “No, I was… just talking to myself.”

It was a terrible lie, and even the man could see through it. His eyes narrowed, and he sighed, crossing his arms and facing Hyde. “Do you or don’t you?”

“Alva Faust.” Once again, it was Rilon who spoke through Hyde’s voice. “Your name is Alva.”

_How the hell are you doing that?_

“How dim-witted are you?” Alva stood over Hyde, tapping his head, which only irritated Hyde — and to an extent, Rilon — more than he already was.

“Dim-Witted enough to murder the President.” Hyde waved Alva’s hand away, snatching the matchbox out of his other.

Although Alva appeared slightly upset at the loss of his matchbox, which Hyde suspected from a quick inspection, was stolen, a mingle of amusement and disbelief sparked in his eyes. “Fine.” he pointed at the matchbox in Hyde’s hand. “Now give that back.”

Hyde shook his head and smiled childishly. “_No_.”

Alva swiped for the matchbox, but Hyde dove away from it, holding the box close to him.

“Give it back, asshole.” Alva snarled as Hyde crashed into another stall at the opposite side of the street.

“What did I say?” Hyde examined the box before Alva dove for him again. He smiled as he replied with, “No.”

_Aren't you supposed to be meeting someone_? Rilon's interruption prompted Hyde to toss Alva back his matchbox.

_Not for a while, if I’m recalling correctly_. Hyde sniffed.

He was hesitant but amused as he watched Alva fumble for the box. “You're from Vienna.”

“So?” Alva finally caught the box, staring at the box, examining it as Hyde had done. “How’d you get that detail from just the box? Last time I looked, this was -” He held up the box before abruptly cutting himself off in realization. “It’s the… voice… isn’t it?”

“Dumbass,” Hyde muttered under his breath, a hint of a snarl in his tone. “I guess I’m not some dimwit, after all, Alva Faust.”

Alva snarled back as if to challenge him, but Hyde wouldn’t even remotely consider picking on him, as he appeared more experienced than he was.

But yet, so had Lear.

_You’re clouding your mind, Edward. Stay focused._

Alva tossed the box once in the air, before catching it in the opposite hand and stashing it back in his coat pocket. He had seen the look in Hyde’s eyes, studying him again, how he had gotten a small knowing of Alva’s experience. He shied away, and Hyde heard him fight to suppress a small snarl of embarrassment.

Hyde held out his hand, although Alva was out of arm’s reach on the other side of the street.

Alva still shied away — he had no social experience if any at all. It was a weakness, Hyde noted, but not a very relevant one. Still, he put in the back of his mind for later, in case he needed it.

“Well?” He smiled. “It’s either shake my hand and let me introduce myself, or… you can give me back your matchbox.”

Alva snarled again, but hurriedly walked across the street and shook Hyde’s hand before turning away again. “Don’t… take my matchbox…”

Hyde nearly laughed. “I wouldn't chance it.”

Alva relaxed at his reply; a faint smile appeared on his lips before vanishing completely. He nodded. “Good.”

“I suppose this is the worst time to introduce myself, then?”

“You said you were going to.”

“I did?” It took several seconds for Hyde's brain to click and get what he had said earlier. “Why yes, I did. ”

Alva stared at him as though he'd spoken another language completely.

“Well,” Hyde felt the urge to flee from this place. Someone would notice a missing First Lord sooner or later. “I'm Hyde. Mr. Edward Hyde.”

“You're weirdly formal.” Alva pulled the matchbox out of his pocket again. “Anyway, nice meeting you, Edward.”

He pulled a match out of the box, striking it as he dashed off down the street.

With a small smile, mostly to himself as there was nobody there to speak to, Hyde shook his head. His cheeks began to burn. Was it from excitement, embarrassment, or something else entirely?

Again, he shook his head, but more vigorously as though clearing his thoughts. He peeked out of the stall to see Alva staring at him from some distance away. The expression on the man’s face wasn’t clear, but Hyde figured that it was some form of amusement.

Alva tossed something aside, which Hyde figured was the match he had seen him strike only moments earlier. It was confirmed when one of the nearby market stalls burst into flames. How easily it had set wasn’t something Hyde would easily figure out, and figured did not matter.

_Of course_. After his short hiatus of silence, Rilon muttered in disdain. _Another arsonist_.

“Another?” Hyde whispered, backing into the stall as footsteps rushed past him. Part of him prayed that Alva had gotten away in that short time.

When Rilon did not reply, Hyde muttered the word again.

_I had a — it doesn’t matter_.

Hyde grumbled. Rilon wasn’t going to reply.

It didn’t matter, anyway.

He needed to get Rilon back.


	13. Chapter Twelve

Despite the sun being its highest in the sky, clouds concealed it, and as such, Hyde felt as though the day had grown even colder. He had put Rilon’s coat back on, but that had not helped him much.

He reckoned that it was the time of year. It was November, anyway — he thought he could taste oncoming snow in the air.

Until a few moments before, he was deciding to let Rilon back out to find his brother, but then after a sharp reminder from the alter about his fears of the outside, he reminded himself that he had a meeting to honor.

Letting Rilon back out could wait. It was more than likely that Asiah was the last person he wanted to see at the moment.

Hyde now stood at the edge of the city square, where the sea of people stood, watching as yet another person gave some sickeningly sentimental speech that Hyde couldn't care less about.

He felt like an outcast, listening to the murmurings.

It was too boring here.

After the person stopped abruptly in their speech, Hyde shook his head and moved on down the street, away from the crowd.

“How long will this last?” The question was meant to be for him and him alone, but he knew that Rilon was going to reply regardless.

_At most, a few days._

“I guess I’m laying low until then.”

_I feel like you don’t have to._ Rilon muttered. His voice had a hint of regret. Y_ou wouldn’t. For all we know, they probably think Lear died of some natural cause or whatnot._

There was a pause before he snarled, _Pathetic. He’ll go out respected like any other leader here._

“You’re starting to sound like me.” He didn’t want to admit that he was impressed, but it exposed itself in his tone.

_I — shut up._

Hyde chuckled. “I’ll make that choice, dear Arlett.”

He gradually made his way out of the city square, taking cautious glances behind him to make sure that nobody noticed. One person missing in the crowd wouldn’t matter; it was one less person who cared.

_Where did she say she would be?_

_Hyde Park Library, Edward._

“Ha,” Hyde laughed humorlessly. “_Hyde Park._”

_Of course, she’d do that._

_Don't flatter yourself, Edward._

“Oh, I wasn't trying to,” Hyde muttered. “Where's that park at, anyway?”

_West from the square, about three kilometers or so._

“Excuse me, three _what_?” Hyde briefly paused on the street, then started up again as he knew that standing would waste idle time. “What else do you know? The total square root of land area on the planet?”

_I have a doctorate in chemistry and medicine, Edward. Do you think I'd stress myself out more with... pitiful cartography?_

Again, Hyde hesitated, before drawing out a slow, “_No_.”

_Good. Now keep going and get us the hell out of here. Three kilometers isn't going to walk itself._

He'd stopped more times than he would have liked which only tired himself out quicker.

Hyde took a glance at the sky, noting the sun's position. _Three quarters._

What should have taken him an hour or two at most had taken him twice or maybe three times that.

He was late. He was _never _late.

Hyde forced himself not to panic. Ottawa — as he knew from most meetings — could be impatient, or she could be very patient. It all depended on how long she had been forced to wait.

He’d learned about her impatience the hard way during their second meeting. She wouldn’t listen to reason or any excuse, and when Hyde attempted to reason with her, she wouldn’t speak unless it was to someone else. He had finally cracked, giving her a reasonable answer, to which in turn she cracked and mentioned that the day previous had been rough for her, then laughed it off as if nothing had happened.

Hyde couldn’t exactly remember the reason he had given, only the way Ottawa had laughed about her apology and how casually she had brushed off the subject.

It pestered Hyde like a piece of a song that refused to leave his head.

“Oh, my dear Arlett, what do I do?” It wasn’t meant for anyone but himself, just a simple chiding for being so forgetful.

_What do you feel like doing, Edward?_

He stared at the library, which was a small, two-story, brick building that felt intimidating all the same.

_Oh… you like her, don’t you?_ Rilon’s tone suggested amusement, even though it was made out to be more like a question out of surprise.

Hyde walked up to the door, a rectangular and translucent piece of glass. The figures inside were shapeless blobs without faces, but one appeared to be sitting at a table, impatiently watching the door.

Hurriedly, Hyde pulled the door open and stepped inside. The figure sitting at the table noticed his presence and narrowed their eyes.

“Where have you been?”

“I — well there was a memorial,” That, in part, was a truthful statement. He regretted how casually he made out the next statement. “The President died. I couldn’t risk my luck not showing up.”

Ottawa shook her head, which, by the look on her face, was out of disbelief. “Oh,” She relaxed as she spoke, offering Hyde a weak smile. “It’s that ‘bad luck will come to you if you don’t go to a funeral’ type… _thing?”_

She didn’t give Hyde a chance to reply. “ I get it.”

She got up from the chair and pulled another from across it until it sat beside her. “Come here, then. It isn't worth making me more impatient than I already am.”

Hyde mentally rolled his eyes but smiled. He joined her at the table, turning the chair to face her.

“So... Why aren't you there, then?”

Ottawa leaned back in the chair, sighing deeply. “I never cared for the man.” She held up her hands, gesturing to the other people in the library. “Neither did these people.”

_Well, good._ Rilon muttered, annoyed_. I need to get out of here, Edward._

“I thought you didn't need to, Arlett.”

_Well, I —_ Rilon grumbled, then muttering something Hyde couldn't decipher, and frankly didn't want to.

After a while of silence, Hyde sighed, staring at the floor. The carpet had somehow gotten his full attention, the patterns swirling in what Hyde likened to the flash of neuronal synapses.

But how would he know such things? Wouldn't such thoughts normally occur to Rilon? Was this some half-forgotten memory or was this something Rilon was forcing into his brain?

“Are you alright?” Ottawa suddenly spoke as he shook his head.

He looked up to meet Ottawa’s gaze.

“Was that a yes or a no?”

“No, uh… _yes_?” Hyde flashed her a fake — although fairly large — smile. “Honestly… I’m just bothered by… a lot.”

“How much? A little lot?” Ottawa leaned over and lowered her hand to barely an inch above the floor, then leaned back in the chair as she moved her hand over her head. “Or much a lot?”

Hyde bent over and took hold of her hand, lowering it to around a midpoint. “This much.”

He knew she was joking, but took it seriously anyway. They smiled at each other, although Hyde could see how flustered Ottawa was as it sparked in her eyes. She pulled a face before pulling her hand slowly away with a poorly stifled laugh.

Hyde shied away, trying to hide his face in his hands. It proved to something more along the line of Rilon’s childish mannerisms, so he stopped himself.

Now he was just a maniac staring at his hands.

Before Ottawa could see, he clasped his hands together and rested them on his lap.

_You’re not cut out for this._

_There’s a thing called panic, dear Arlett. We all experience it differently._

_Says the one who’s panicking._

“I -” Hyde sighed once he realized what he said was spoken aloud. When he glanced at Ottawa, she had gotten up from the table and was browsing a nearby aisle of what appeared to be newspaper archives or maps of some sort. She turned around as though she had known that Hyde had been staring at her, but whipped back to face the shelf, quickly ruffling her hair with her hands.

“Ott?”

“Nothing.” Her reply was instant, her voice panicked. “It’s nothing.”

“What is?” Hyde stood from the chair and strode to the aisle. He found Ottawa with a newspaper in her hand, pretending to read it as though to avoid staring at Hyde.

“What're you reading?”

Ottawa startled, holding the paper close to her. Her face visibly paled. “I said it's nothing.”

“Are you sure it's nothing?”

“I'm quite certain.” Ottawa let go of the paper, which nearly fluttered to the ground before Hyde caught it.

He scanned the page of yellowed paper, which he seemed unimportant, before handing it back to Ottawa.

“It was a distraction. I caught you.”

“Alright, you did.” Ottawa took a glance at the paper before pulling a face and stashing it away back on the shelf. “Congratulations.”

She bowed briefly, smiling. Hyde rolled his eyes and shook his head.

“Alright…” Ottawa took a glance around the library. “What's the point of being at a library if we're not going to do anything?”

“Right,” Hyde sniffed, glancing around the library. It appeared to have grown emptier in the short time since he had entered. “That’s exactly right.”


	14. Chapter Thirteen

Rilon found himself waking up in a lobby chair, or at least, he believed it was a chair. The only thing that he was sure that it was the lobby.

A very dark… very empty lobby.

How much had he lost since he'd left his brother? Was it a few hours or a few days? Had he missed the Presidential ceremony?

Was he even in the Tower?

_You thought I'd dump you somewhere else, didn't you? You're comical, dear Arlett._

“How long was I out?”

_Uhh... A day at most? I don't know, my dear. Do I sound like a timekeeper to you?_

Rilon sighed, running his hand through tangled hair. “Mein Gott… I'd kill you if you weren't so… idiotic, I would have killed you.”

_That's suicide. Do you want to do that?_

“Don't piss me off and it won't come to that, got it?”

As if in anger, Hyde let out a hissing noise. He fell silent afterward, or nearly silent, for Rilon thought he had heard impatient mutterings.

_A day._ Rilon sighed with relief. That was the longest he’d been out — at least to his knowledge — and nothing destructive had happened to the extent of his awareness.

At least he hadn’t missed his brother’s ceremony, which was good. It would greatly lessen Asiah’s suspicions about where he had gone, even though Rilon suspected himself that disappearing without a trace was strange as is.

When he attempted to stand from the chair, he found it nearly impossible. He ached as though he had run the length of London — twice. Hyde hadn’t done anything strange, had he?

_No_. Besides the tangled hair and how tired he had been, at most Hyde could have gone to that memorial, although there was a vague recollection, a brief thought. It was a memory of a library, but it was faint as though it had been a dream.

Yet it hadn’t been a dream. Hyde had experienced it, so it would be locked to him for what might be for the rest of his life.

Rilon cursed under his breath, and quite strongly in fact. It echoed throughout the lobby despite the near silence of it, heard by his ears only.

Or, at least he thought it was.

From an unknown place in the lobby, he heard a childish snicker, maybe a pair of them.

Rilon swiftly rose from the chair, disregarding his pain, and called, “Who’s there?”

The snickers abruptly cut off, only then to be followed by light footsteps.

“I know you’re there. _Come out_!” Rilon fell back in the chair, again swearing strongly under his breath. He lowered his head and stared at the floor, only to snap it back up when the footsteps started up once more.

Twin shadows appeared by the light of the door, staring curiously at him. They remained there for several seconds before darting across the lobby and hiding behind the desk.

Once more, Rilon stood up from the chair, pacing slowly to the desk. He braced himself against the top once he got there, and stuck his head over.

Two kids huddled behind it, excitedly murmuring to each other.

“What are you doing here?” Rilon spoke, and they startled, staring straight at him — he could tell by the almost catlike glint of their eyes. Their murmurs decreased into silence.

He could not see them clearly, but when he leaned completely over the desk — which would have been embarrassing should there have been other people there — he could hear tiny giggles start up from them.

“What are you doing?” One of the children echoed Rilon mockingly. They giggled when Rilon frowned at them.

“Seriously?” Rilon had already a hard week as it was, and these children weren't making it any easier on him. “What... ‘Why are you here’, is that first question.”

“So, there was a ship, a very big ship.” One of the childrens’ voices spoke — Rilon noticed a slightly heavier Southern Kingdom accent in their voice — and they spoke very slowly as though considering their words, or as though they felt that Rilon was considerably very stupid. “We stayed there for a while with our parents.”

“They're gone now.” Rilon was nearly shocked by the causality of the other one's tone, almost falling over from the desk- he caught himself before he could. “They're dead.”

“_Jackie_!” The first child snapped, and that protest was followed by an audible “_oof_!” from the second. Rilon nearly laughed but refrained.

“Where do you come from?” Rilon was cautious, but at least he had gained some of the pair's trust.

The first had gotten up and gone to the large map on the wall behind the desk. It was just out of her reach, and almost too dim to see, but she was pointing to a tiny island off the coast of the Southern Kingdom. A disputed territory.

“Were you stowaways?”

The girl at the map shook her head. “We chose to come here.”

The other girl, Jackie, poked her head over the desk, so suddenly that Rilon nearly startled. “But we got lost. Some people got sick, some people died. Two of them were our parents… Well, they -”

“Jackie,” The first girl, still unnamed to Rilon, sniffed. “That’s too much information. Do you think we can trust him?”

“Well, you’re talking to me…” Rilon narrowed his eyes. “It kind of defeats the purpose.”

Jackie crawled onto the desk, getting in Rilon’s face, but then turned to face her sister. “See, Frigga?”

Frigga sighed; her shadow made a motion of rubbing her temples as though exasperated. “Fine. We need a place to stay. The lobby is… too crowded to sleep.”

“Too cold,” Jackie added. “Where does the air come from in here?”

From what he had noticed about the curiosity in their eyes, neither of them had been in a building this large. Rilon doubted that they had seen one of this size before. The island they had come from had only sporadic small towns, at least, Rilon remembered that they had from the maps. The biggest building that the two could have seen was more than likely a government building or church of some sort.

“Do I look like a walking blueprint to you?”

Frigga's reply was blunt. “_No_.”

_She seems nice._ Hyde muttered. Rilon ignored him, contorting his face into what could be called a frown.

_Compared to you, yes._

_I —_

“But seriously is there a place to stay?” Jackie got in Rilon's face once more, and Rilon quickly backed up from the desk, stammering.

“I — there's my room, but I — there's my brother…”

“You have a _**BROTHER**_?” Jackie tried to lean forward, but there was nothing else to brace her. She slipped and nearly fell. Rilon raced to catch her, but she fell upon him as well, and they were both sent tumbling to the floor.

Jackie crawled off, over Rilon's face; distantly, Rilon heard Frigga impatiently mutter, “Oh my God, you're an idiot.”

Rilon scrambled to his feet, fumbling through his coat pockets for his glasses.

_Glasses, Hyde. Where are they?_

_Right pocket._

Rilon whipped out his glasses from the exact pocket and almost shoved him upon his face. “Of course I have a brother.”

“Where’re your rooms?” Jackie headed away from the desk to the stairwell door. She began to yank on the handle before Frigga snapped an abrupt, “_Stop_.”

_I’ve got a feeling that Jackie isn't a quick thinker._

_There's one in every family, but please, don't judge her._

_This is a child, Arlett. You are not married. You do not have children of your own._

Does any of this have any relevance to my current situation?

_I — no_.

_Then shut the fuck up._

Reluctantly, Hyde obeyed, grumbling.

“_Jackie_.”

Jackie turned to face Rilon, her eyes glinting like a cat's in the dim light.

_I will never get over that._

_Is_ _this how children work? I don't know how children work._

Rilon sighed and headed for the door. Jackie darted away from it as Rilon swung it open and stepped inside.

He held it open, yet nearly got knocked over by Jackie who raced up the first flight of stairs. Behind her, Frigga followed more slowly, rolling her eyes at Rilon as she passed. There was a hint of an amused smirk upon her face.

Rilon stole a cautious glance behind him as though he felt that he was being followed. All he could see was the dim sunlight in an empty lobby.

Although wary, he smiled to himself and shut the stairwell door.

Now that they were in a more brightly lit area, the three could see each other better. Hardly anyone spoke, except for the main repeated complaint from Frigga about Rilon's tangled mess of hair. Rilon had retorted mockingly, stating that her hair wasn't much better. After the brief argument, all three of them had fallen silent.

Before Rilon noted anything else, he noticed that they both were wearing identical dark purple dresses, with intricate designs of gold and white sewn into the collars. The two were likely children of higher-ranking officials, which Rilon nearly figured wouldn't matter, as they were orphans — most likely as he wasn't trusting Jackie's reason yet — and they were also both thousands of miles away from their home. The dresses were slightly tattered and storm-beaten, but at most, they could have been wearing them for a week.

The two, although different in maturity, appeared to be twins, and they looked to be no older than thirteen or fourteen years old. Jackie’s hair was much longer than her sister’s, and tightly wound curls suggested that she had recently worn many braids. Whether she had taken them out upon her volition, or they had fallen out wasn’t his business. Frigga’s hair was much messier, maybe a result of bedhead. Both had a dark copper complexion — considerably darker than Rilon’s own — and pointed ears, comparable to the catlike glint in their eyes. They were of Southern Kingdom heritage, despite the place they had come from being a disputed territory — the accent in their voices had told him that first.

“How much farther?” It was Frigga who had complained, her arms now drooping in front of her. Jackie sent a curious glance back at Rilon.

“Well,” Rilon admittedly hadn’t been paying attention to the floor number, lost in his own thoughts. “Did you see what floor we were on?”

“It said ‘9’ just a moment ago.” Frigga stood up straight. “You didn’t mention where your rooms were.”

“Walking distance of an elevator.” Rilon murmured. “Floor ten.”

“We’re nearly there, then!” Jackie perked up, grabbed hold of Frigga’s hand, and began dragging her up the stairs as she ran.

Rilon mentally rolled his eyes and felt a slight pang of jealousy, which was mostly directed towards himself. He hadn't allowed himself to be childish at that age, instead choosing to spend all of his time engrossed in his University studies.

Essentially, he had forced himself to mature too quickly. It had somehow forced out some childish mannerisms that he had been forced to repress.

Rilon shoved the thought to the back of his mind, racing up the stairs after the two children.

By then, they had already gotten halfway to the elevator, which, for two children, was a pretty considerable distance. Frigga was literally being dragged by Jackie, and appeared out of breath, while Jackie was nowhere near out of stamina.

Rilon briefly stammered before finding his words. “Girls! I think you should stop!”

When Jackie did not obey, he nearly screamed, his voice breaking.

“Jackie, drop your sister and get over here right now.”

He felt stupid about his words, but Jackie stopped running, staring back at Rilon. She dropped Frigga, who fell to the ground with a distant thud. She did not turn to walk back to Rilon but instead stuck out her tongue.

_You seriously do not know how to deal with children._

I’m starting to see that now. Rilon retorted, walking to catch up with them in the hallway. Jackie smiled mischievously, turning back and breaking into a run.

_Mein Gott…_

“Jackie!” He briefly paused to check on Frigga, who reassured him that she was fine, standing to narrow her eyes at her twin, who'd stopped before a door.

The door to Rilon’s rooms.

“Oh God, she’s _fucked_.” Frigga now stood next to Rilon, drawing out the last word in a singsong tone. “You’re not gonna punish her, are you?”

“As long as she doesn’t go into my rooms,” Rilon shrugged. “I won’t do anything.”

He started his pace up again, but not before turning to Frigga and saying, “I… and make sure to watch your language, Frigga.”

“Why should I?” Frigga crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes. “You’re not my dad.”

“I -” Rilon stammered. “Fair point.”

Jackie stared at them, her face crumpled into a sneer. She glanced at the door, and back to Rilon. She pointed at it. “Is this your room? It looks small.”

Rilon took out a key out of one of his coat pockets and quickly unlocked the door, the two darted past him into the main room. He shut the door swiftly behind him, and watch them gaze around in awe.

“It’s a mess,” Frigga remarked after a few moments. “Is there a — Jackie, stop messing with that!”

Rilon found Jackie messing with the things on his desk, and he darted forward to catch her. He gave her a firm, “No,” and sent her back to stand beside her sister.

He fell back in the chair and pointed to the bedroom door. “Sleep in there until I can find you both a room.”

Frigga nodded, but Jackie was still dumbfounded by the organized mess of a room. After an impatient rebuke by Frigga, Jackie nodded. She dragged Frigga into the bedroom, then shut the door behind them.

Relieved, Rilon sank into the chair, then looked at his desk.

Jackie hadn’t messed with much, just a few irrelevant papers and a dried-up ink quill. He shoved those away to find his journal and a small crumpled up piece of paper with a note in his brother’s handwriting.

_“Found this among my old stuff when getting ready for the ceremony. I got it for you a while back, but I never thought about giving it to you. You weren’t home, so I left it on your desk. I hope it fits… You might need it._

_-Asi”_

He took the crumpled piece of paper and unwrapped it. Inside was a small black ring. A subconscious feeling came to him — a half-buried memory — he somehow knew what he had to do with it, staring at his right hand.

Yet, he was hesitant as he set the paper the ring had been in upon his desk.

He supposed that… nobody really would mind, would they? It was just a simple object that at most, people would just glance over and not think further about it.

Why was it causing him anxiety?

“Dammit, Rilon, just listen to yourself for once.” Without further thought, Rilon slipped the ring onto the middle finger of his right hand and fell back in the chair.

He held up his right hand in front of his face and stared at it. In his opinion, the ring didn’t look half bad on him. Like he had said to himself earlier, he figured that most people would glance at him and not think twice. A question or two would be the worst, most likely from one of the twins later that day.

Rilon sighed and lowered his hand to his lap.

_I best give sleep a shot._

The twins in his bedroom had long since grown quiet, possibly sleeping in the bed if not on the floor or some other crazy place. It made him pity himself at the fact that he was not sleeping himself.

Going to his bedroom wasn’t going to be worth anything, as it was already occupied by the previously-mentioned twins, and many long nights previous had found Rilon asleep with his head on the desk. It had almost become second nature to him.

So that’s what he decided to do. He turned the chair to his desk, crossed his arms, and rested his head upon it.

He stared at the balcony window until finally, his eyes grew heavy, so he shut them and let sleep take over him like a dark, giant wave.

“Good afternoon, sleepyhead.”

Stiff, Rilon lifted his head from the desk and yawned. He both felt and heard his joints clicked as he stretched. “Good morning, Asi.”

“You found the ring on your desk, didn't you?”

Rilon turned, resting his chin on the back of the chair. “Yeah.”

Asiah smiled and crossed his arms. “That's good,” he said. “So, I managed to stall the ceremony until —”

He was interrupted by a loud thud but only glanced at the door before continuing. “I managed to postpone the ceremony until this evening.”

Another thud interrupted before he could speak, and so he shouted, “Would you stop that _blasted _noise!”

Rilon avoided his brother's gaze when he turned to glare at Rilon. “What is that?”

“More like —” Rilon didn't get a chance to finish. The door to the bedroom flew open, and what could only be Frigga ran out, nearly running into Asiah. She missed, but...

Jackie didn't.

Rilon sprang up from the chair as Asiah fell. He caught his brother, breaking his fall.

Asiah pushed himself off and stood. When he turned to face the girls, they both had stood stock still, by the cabinets, like twin guards.

“Who are these...” Asiah appeared to struggles for the words. “Children?”

“You see, they are my…” Rilon waved his hand about as if summoning up a lie. What lie would his brother believe? “They're my… daughters.”

Asiah quietly scoffed, clearly amused. “Oh?”

Frigga, however, was the opposite. Her arms were crossed and she was scowling. “Excuse me, what?”

Rilon sent a helpless glance at the girl and shrugged.

_Good lie._ Murmured Hyde, more amused than Asiah. _You're such a good man, dear Arlett._

“How are people going to believe that?” Frigga broke into his thoughts. “We look nothing like you two, plus, what story do you have to make up this time?”

“_Story_?” Asiah barely stifled a nervous laugh.

Rilon sent his brother a glare but said nothing. It was likely he knew that Rilon had figured out that he'd forged a story about Lear, even if he didn't know the full one.

“You're better at storytelling than I am, Asi.” Rilon waved his hand and turned to the desk, picking up his journal.

“But I never—”,

“Zip it, Asi. I'm tired. Get them new clothes — get them ready for the ceremony. Just… let me gather myself, okay?” Rilon opened his journal and flipped through it, as though it had suddenly gained all of his interest.

After a moment of hesitation, Asiah sighed in irritation. “Alright,” he said. “Come on, girls. He needs time to himself.”

Rilon set the journal down and for a brief moment, turned back to face the three. Jackie had already darted out an open door, to which Asiah was yelling at her and shouting some strong curse words. Frigga, however, had paused at the door and was staring at Rilon with a curious, almost worried gaze.

Rilon abruptly turned back to his desk and slammed his journal shut, as though someone had been reading it. He didn’t relax until Frigga had shut the door.

He took out a pen and opened his journal.

_“November 11th or 12th, 2663,_

_Well, today’s the day. A day where I should have been the one in such a spotlight. Instead, it’s Asi. I really can’t feel jealous, as I just gave it up, because I’m -”_

He set the pen down, his hand too shaky to write. What was this? Was it some weird trick of Hyde’s doing?

Rilon was unsure of either answer, but it was likely that the answer to the latter was a definite no.

With that decision, Rilon also took off his glasses and covered his mouth as a sob escaped from it. He picked up the journal and the pen but found that seeing and writing were both an impossibility.

Rilon slumped back in the chair, dropping the journal to the floor. With that, he buried his face in his hands, shaking and sobbing uncontrollably. He couldn’t let anyone see him like this, but he had that sinking feeling that someone was always listening or watching.

After a minute, he rose from the chair. His sobbing had died down to silent cries, and it was still hard for him to see. He paced to the balcony door, but his hand hesitated on the handle. Rilon couldn’t bring himself to step outside, for whatever reason it may be.

His legs grew suddenly weak, like two thin sticks, and he collapsed onto the floor, feeling hopeless as usual.

As usual. Another one of those stupid terms for normality.

_Also disgusting._

What broke the brief silence was a cautious knock on his door.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, but, may I come in, Frei?”

Rilon stared at the door. His suspicions had been correct: someone had been listening to him. It had been Asi, of all people, but if that was him, then where had the girls gone?

“Asiah, I -”

“Can I come in?”

“Yeah, fine. Whatever. Ignore the mess.”

“Very funny, Ri.” Asiah cautiously opened the door, a tinge of irritation in his voice. “I know a mess when I see one.”

“I’m glad you stalled.” Rilon sniffled, sitting upright and forcing a weak smile at his brother. “I don’t feel like going. Where are the girls?”

“For one,” Asiah sighed, striding over to Rilon, then kneeling before him. “You have to, or you’ll look bad, and for another, I sent them off with a guard. They’ll both be fine.”

“Which guard?”

“Her name is Alice. I trust her enough, Ri.”

“Asi -” Rilon hugged himself and curled up beside the window. “I’m… God, I was right about the mess.”

Asiah shook his head, then giving an exasperated sigh; Rilon looked up and his brother’s eyes hardened, defending against any emotion he might have shown before. “I’ve got to get ready, Ri. Decide if you’re going, and I’ll meet you downstairs.”

Rilon watched his brother, who spared him not a further glance, as he closed the door. He lowered his gaze to stare at the floor.

_I’ll go._


	15. Chapter Fourteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Coronation is almost here.

If he’d had a mirror, he would have been judging his appearance by now. Instead, he was rather judging by the way he felt rather than physical appearance.

That wasn’t helping him at all.

He had hastily done his hair, which still had several tangles and was done up in a hasty ponytail. The most he could say were for his clothes, which, of course, were still black, but appeared to be more of a formal suit than his normal clothes.

He honestly looked more ready for a dinner party than for a stupid coronation. Or was it an inauguration, as Asiah was becoming President rather than a king? Or was it truly a memorial, a memorial for himself, as what his brother had gained he had lost?

He stared at the translucent reflection in the lenses of his glasses. The biggest thing he could see about himself was how much his eyes seemed to have dimmed. They weren't as bright, no longer an emerald green as he was used to seeing, but rather dull green, nearly black.

_Well, you're a mess_. Hyde broke into his thoughts after his hours of silence.

“You're a bloody idiot.” Rilon adjusted his glasses as he set them upon his nose. “And good morning.”

When Hyde didn't respond, Rilon added on in mock pity, “Oh, I thought we were pointing out things that were stupidly obvious about one another.”

Hyde snarled but said nothing further. Rilon knew at that moment that his alter had lost the argument.

Rilon fixed the cuffs of his jacket, smiling smugly despite whatever else he was feeling. He stared out the door, which was ajar even though he swore it had been locked. Briefly, he chided himself for the mind slip and was glad that nobody occupied his apartment at the moment with his exception.

He quickly fixed his hair, which proved to be more of an effort than he wanted to make, then gave up.

Rilon strode into the bedroom, glancing around to double-check that nobody was there as he had hoped. After feeling satisfied with his findings, he headed into the main room, where he did, find someone waiting there — _two _someones.

“Oh, Jackie. Where’s Frigga?” He addressed his daughter flatly, from where she sat on the countertop. He took note of a winged guard that was sitting in his desk chair, who he assumed to be Alice. It could only be Alice. She was the only guard that his brother trusted.

“She went to get her hair done. Asiah, I guess, was done with her complaining that her hair was too long and that it was messing up her ‘look’.”

A guilt trip? Not usual of Frigga from what I’ve seen, but I guess that's alright.

The guard stifled a laugh as Jackie fixed the frilly collar of the red dress she was wearing, which appeared to be in a short bout of nitpicking.

“Anyway, Alice interrupted the two, getting up from the chair. “I’m glad to have watched her, although she is a bit… much.”

“Yeah,” Rilon murmured bluntly, avoiding her gaze. Under his breath, he added, “This is why I never wanted children.”

“I hope you know I heard that.” Jackie frowned, still nitpicking her dress collar.

“I’ll go now.” Alice’s wings fluttered, as if uneasy. “I’ll see both of you at the ceremony… guarding and whatnot. See ya, dear Ri.”

She brushed past him and headed out the door. Once it closed, Jackie fixed him with a sneering stare.

Rilon narrowed his eyes back. “Don’t you even remotely get that idea.”

“Oh, I’m ‘_remotely getting that idea_’.”

_She hasn’t learned anything._

_Where were you earlier?_

_Listening to the conversation. I find these weird flashes of panic entertaining._

Rilon waved Jackie out into the hall, feeling like she was able to handle herself alone for a minute at most.

_Entertaining? Do you find the mental anguish of your other side entertaining?_

_I don't doubt that. Plus,_ Hyde's voice dropped, nearly mumbling. _She called you dear._

“Oh? Is that what you're concerned about?” Rilon questioned aloud. “Whether someone calls me dear or not… It’s not my problem.”

_Well, it is mine._ Hyde's voice spiked out of what could only be envy. I_t's my problem. I thought only I could call you that._

“Well, she obviously didn't know that... at least I'd assume so...” Rilon waved his hand abruptly as if to hush him. “Just don't worry about it.”

Hyde grumbled something that Rilon did not care to understand.

He crossed his arms, sniffed, and dismissed what Hyde had said only moments previous. It was a petty little argument and would be disregarded soon anyway. Already, it was irrelevant.

Again, with a snarl under his breath, Rilon discarded that thought as well; he headed out in the hallway where Jackie was impatiently waiting, still fixing the collar of her dress, although Rilon supposed that it was rather something to keep her occupied than a nitpicky act.

“Are you ready?”

She startled, staring up at him; after a brief reluctance, she nodded, confirming it with a quiet, “Yeah.”

“Alright,” Rilon felt that he was more joyous than her. “We can go find Frigga and Asiah and tell them that we’re ready.”

She hesitated as Rilon began his stroll back down the hall. Rilon turned to face her, worried.

“Is there something wrong?”

“I’ve never been to a big event before. What if I get something wrong? What if I mess up a greeting or something?” She pulled at her collar again, staring at the floor.

Rilon smiled and shrugged. “Can I tell you something?”

She looked up expectantly into his eyes, giggling after a few moments. “What?”

“I’ve never been to an event as big as this, either.”

Although Jackie didn't appear entirely satisfied with his answer, she still smiled. “Sure.” She said sarcastically. Then she paused, just barely holding back a smirk. “Wait… you're not joking.”

Rilon shrugged again, stifling a chuckle. “Nah.”

She didn't know his life, or what he had endured getting into this current situation. She would figure it out someday, with context.

For now, none of that mattered. The present mattered more than anything. Rilon did not need to be happy for himself, but rather his brother… even if that happiness wasn't entirely honest.

He shrugged off the thought and pushed it to the back of his mind. When he brought himself back to reality, he found that Jackie had been watching him the entire time.

“Are you alright?”

Rilon nodded, although he knew that it was partly a lie. “Yeah,” he murmured. “Let's go.”

Jackie had insisted that they take the stairs, as she also insisted that running was more fun than just standing still. Of course, with this statement, she raced down the stairs with endless vitality, Rilon finding that it was nearly impossible to keep up, even with his stamina. He was nearly tripping over his feet chasing after her, while Jackie appeared to move with perfect agility, which was most likely included with the other feline-like features from her heritage.

Nearly tripping over his feet once again, Rilon just barely caught the stairwell railing and held onto it for dear life. His lungs burned — he never wanted to run like that ever again.

“What took you so long?”

Jackie held herself up on the other side of the railing, dangling with a four-foot drop — or more — below her. From Rilon’s quick judgment, she still had stamina left in her, possibly hours more. She had been waiting for him for God knows how long — Rilon couldn’t be bothered to guess.

Rilon only glared at her, breath heaving. He opened his mouth to chide her but found it was impossible to speak with his lack of breath.

Jackie giggled, pulling herself over the railing with ease, landing a few stairs above where Rilon stood. Rilon glared at her but did not comment, only letting out a final deep breath out his nose.

“For once, I’m glad I’m normal.” He shook his head as Jackie climbed over the railing and fell to the floor below. For a moment, his heart stopped, and he ran down his flight of stairs to where Jackie had fallen.

Yet she stood flat on her feet, appearing unharmed. As Rilon glared at her again, she waved and smiled innocently.

Rilon shook his head again, repeating his earlier comment but adding, “You are going to be the death of me, Jackie.”

Her smile grew brighter. “Maybe I will.” Her voice seemed to purr in amusement. Her golden eyes flashed, she giggled, then ran down the stairs with frightening speed.

Rilon yelped in surprise, chasing after her, although it was a vain effort. After a minute or so — and several flights of stairs — he gave up, glowering at a still-hyperactive Jackie.

“Jackie.” It was not Rilon that called her name.

“Oh, _Frigga_…” Jackie ran down the next flight down, Rilon followed her, still without breath.

At the bottom of the stairs, Jackie and Frigga were embraced in a tight hug, while Asiah had caught sight of Rilon at the top. His eyes didn't glint from the stair lights but instead looked dim, his face weary. He was dressed in a white robe, which was trimmed with gold. It was no doubt old and had possibly been used for generations before.

That also meant Lear had worn it.

_Dammit… why is my mind going back to him? He's dead._

Frigga and Jackie let go of each other as Asiah ascended the stairs. They both watched the brothers patiently before dashing back down the stairwell.

“How was it?” Rilon stared down the stairwell, partially worried about the two of them.

“She is so fucking exhausting.” Asiah ruffled his hair with a hand. “How does one person have that much energy?”

“Well, she's just a child.”

“Fair point.” Asiah interrupted before Rilon could say anymore. He followed Rilon's gaze down the stairwell. “We best be going.”

Briefly, Rilon met his brother's gaze, but then turned away and quickly headed down the stairs.

“What is it, Ri?” Asiah raced down after him. “Is there something wrong?”

Rilon hung onto the railing at the bottom of the flight and sighed. “Is it normal to be nervous?”

“For you, I’d guess yes… but… you’re regretting something.”

His brother’s words made Rilon’s latest journal flash within his mind. It wasn’t regret that he felt, but rather… jealousy. He’d rebuked Hyde for that same feeling, but Rilon was feeling the emotion himself.

“You want to be in my place, don’t you?” As Asiah joined him at the bottom, Rilon flinched away from his gaze, which contained too many hidden and obscure questions that Rilon did not want to answer.

Asiah sighed, then briefly paused. Rilon had not replied, but the message he had given in the way he flinched had given his younger brother a clear answer.

“That was a yes, wasn’t it?” he murmured.

Still avoiding his gaze, Rilon nodded and sighed again. “Yeah… It was.”

“You know there's still time if you want to —”

“No.” Rilon spat. “I don't, and that's final, Asiah.”

“Alright.” If Asiah had been surprised at Rilon's outburst, he didn't show it. “But that was your last chance.”

_It was your only chance._

_You're taking his side now?_

_Is that a problem?_

Rilon shook his head as Asiah padded down the stairs. He wanted to follow him but was hesitant.

_You know you can change your mind._

Again, Rilon shook his head. _I want to, but I can’t. I would, but if Lear hadn’t been such an -_

_I’ve heard this a million times._ Exasperated, Hyde sighed in annoyance. _Just go and get this over with._

Rilon snarled but didn't protest. He raced after his brother down the stairs, nearly running him over when he couldn't stop in time.

Asiah audibly grumbled but he said nothing in protest. Instead, he muttered impatiently under his breath.

“Just go ahead.” He waved his right hand about as if to dismiss Rilon. “Give me a minute.”

“Now I get to ask,” Rilon said. “Are you alright?”

“I'm fine.” Asiah pinched the bridge of his nose. “As you said before: ‘Don't I have a right to be nervous '? ”

“Yeah, fine.” Rilon left his brother and went to look for both of the girls.

He found them both by the stairwell door, chattering quietly. Frigga raised her head, smiled to acknowledge Rilon's presence, then went back to quietly chattering with her sister.

“Is there something up…?”

It was Jackie's turn to acknowledge Rilon. She smiled, too, and shook her head. “It’s fine.”

_Is that how everything is — fine?_ Rilon didn’t say that aloud, although he felt the biggest urge to. He didn’t risk bothering anyone about it; they could keep whatever thoughts they had about him to themselves. F_ine is such a stupid excuse. Why don’t you all tell the truth and say how much you truly despise me?_

_Is that where your mind is going?_

_No, and I promise._

“Are we going to the fucking ceremony, or are we going to sit around and squander away idle time with our _chit chat_?” His patience was wearing thin, and the way his voice broke startled the two girls, which he instantly felt sorry for.

He seized the railing as a sudden wave of vertigo struck him. It seemed to have no cause or reason as to why, but it left him before Rilon could start worrying.

When his brother ran down to investigate the situation, Rilon spat out the excuse he had dismissed as being stupid moments earlier. “I’m _fine_.”

Asiah dismissed it with a nearly inaudible, “Okay, then.”, but Rilon saw the doubt on his face. “Girls?”

The two stared at the brothers, annoyed at the fact that their chat had been interrupted. They nodded as if knowing what Asiah was going to say, then left the stairwell and headed into the lobby.

“You’re not up for this, are you?” Asiah muttered after a quick check to make sure that the girls weren’t listening.

Rilon shook his head, then hid his face behind a hand. “Obviously.”

“What happened?”

“I don’t know, Asi. I’m fine, and I promise you that’s the entire truth.” Rilon gazed up to stare his brother straight in the eye. ‘I’ll worry about it later.”

Asiah opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted when Frigga swung the stairwell door open. “Um, there’s someone looking for you.” She pointed at Asiah.

“Oh, alright.” Asiah nodded quickly, quickly following Frigga outside.

Rilon sighed, irritated that he had been left alone.

_He’s finally favoring someone over me, isn’t he?_


	16. Chapter Fifteen

“Um, Rilon… er, what do I call you?”

For a moment, Rilon had been going over the past minutes, sitting alone on the stairs. He looked up from his lap to see Jackie at the bottom near the door, staring at him in worry.

“It doesn't matter.” Rilon rested his chin in his hand and sighed, staring at the railing. “What is it?”

“I know I might be bothering you, but I couldn't help but overhear you two.”

Rilon mentally smiled at himself. So Asi had been wrong.

“You _are_ alright, are you.”

“Yeah,” Rilon murmured, although that was a lie. “I can be nervous, can't I?”

Jackie smiled, even though she herself didn't look entirely reassured. She said nothing to offer him in any way, heading back out into the lobby and leaving Rilon alone in his thoughts once more.

_What depth have I lied to?_

He stared at the door, letting out a deep breath out through his nose. There was no reply, unlike what he had expected. Instead, there was quiet. He didn't like the quiet.

Was this quiet out of the same nervosity that Rilon himself was feeling? Was it any kind of feeling?

_No_.

Hyde didn’t feel. He never apologized for any of his wrongdoings toward his alter. It was all just excuses and whatnot.

Rilon got to his feet, pushing all those feelings to the back of his mind. He needed to join Asiah before his brother took off without him.

Was he still talking to whomever he was talking to? Rilon held onto that hope, that meager possibility, that the answer was yes. He kept praying that his wish was true as he shoved open the door and stepped out into the lobby.

_Oh, thank God._

His brother was still there, chattering with who could only be Amil.

Of course... it could only be Amil. Asiah had no other friends that Rilon even remotely knew about.

He didn't want to know what they were talking about, as common sense told him that it was none of his business.

He quickly searched for the girls, and much to his surprise, found them both staring at the map, much to the distress of the poor receptionist, a short dark-haired woman who looked clearly surprised at the two.

Rilon sighed, shook his head, and stared at the floor. Afterward, he lifted his gaze and walked past his brother — who acknowledged him with surprise — to the desk.

“Excuse me,” He tapped at the desk, quite nearly startling the receptionist. “Sorry to bother you…” He read the name upon a small slate on the desk. “Maricella?”

The name rang a bell, but he didn’t remember where from.

She turned in her seat, and he offered her a nervous smile. “I’m sorry if they’re bothering you.”

He then turned abruptly on the two girls, calling out their names in succession. They turned away from the map and stared at him.

“It’s time to go, girls.”

Frigga smiled, although it was not genuine. “Let’s go, Jackie.”

She grabbed Jackie’s hand and began dragging her away from the map. Rilon smiled at the receptionist again, before heading over to Asiah.

“We need to go. Everyone’s wasting my fucking patience, and frankly, you’re the main reason.”

Asiah had not heard him or was ignoring him. The wave of his hand showed proof of the latter.

“Asiah,” Rilon took his brother's hand and pulled him away from Amil. “You said you stalled enough. Nobody wants to stand around.”

Asiah turned his gaze as if to helplessly ask Amil to help, but Rilon likes him away.

“You're wearing me thin, Asi. Say goodbye to your friend here, and let's go.”

“I'm not going to be late, Rilon. Give me time.” Asiah pushed himself away and fixed the sleeves of his robe.

Rilon didn't want another argument. “Say goodbye, and go. You can talk to him later.”

Asiah sniffed, sending another helpless glance to Amil.

Amil slightly bowed his head, stifling a laugh. “I’ll see you at the ceremony…” He looked like he was about to add something else, his mouth hanging open, but decided against it and abruptly turned away and hurried to the lobby doors.

“That’s not like him, I swear.” Asiah pulled a face, again fixing the sleeves of his robe, although it was a nervous tic, rather than straightening himself up. “Well, yes, as you said… we better get going.”

Rilon turned around to beckon the girls but found them before the wall map again. He narrowed his eyes.

“_Girls_,” he snapped.

They both turned, and the guilt was so obvious from them that even Asiah — who had his back turned — startled, and turned to glare at them.

“Come on, we’ll be late.”

Frigga gave another fake smile, dragging Jackie away from the map, around the desk, and next to Rilon. “We’re ready.” She said through gritted teeth.

“Alright,” Asiah gave a strained smile, going on ahead, presumably to catch up with Amil.

Mentally, Rilon rolled his eyes. “You guys can go on ahead… _I'll_… I'll catch up.”

Jackie shot him a puzzled glance, then she was the one dragging her sister along toward the doors.

_I'm not stressed. I'm fine. It's simple… it's just the outside. What could be so wrong?_

Avoiding stares, Rilon quickly strode toward the door, catching up with his daughters and Asiah. He flung himself outside upon the door 's opening, out into the walkway.

It felt strange. He forced down the panic rising in his throat, although doing so threw him into some weird, dissociative state. He felt as though he were trapped within some dream of his own making, a stress-induced state that he did not like at all.

If it was Hyde, he did not want it.

Dizzy, he spotted Asiah staring at him. He waved for the girls to go on ahead and sprinted back to Rilon, catching him before he could collapse on the ground, fainting out of panic.

“Oh, God, Ri. You didn't have to —”

Rilon spat before he could finish, defending himself in any means he could. “Yes, I had to. I'm not missing anything important.”

He stood up fully but was still unsteady, and the dream state he was in never left. His legs — as usual with his panic — felt like sticks, ready to break if he attempted to take another step.

Asiah held tightly into his hands, swallowing nervously and sighing. “You're risking your mental health over some stupid ceremony. Rilon, could you get your head out of the clouds?”

Rilon shook his head and stifled a chuckle. “It's kinda hard to do that, Asi.”

The outside now felt like a blur, making Rilon feel as though he were in the dark mind space, which upon usual terms was a safe haven for him to escape to.

“Then do I have to drag you to the church or not?” Asiah waved off a few stragglers who had happened to stare at both of them. Rilon's space expanded just enough to see his brother clearly, and he was undoubtedly worried.

“Do you want me to?”

Asiah pulled a face and candidly shook his head. “Not really.”

But he didn't let go of Rilon's hands, staring directly at him. He sighed again, but this time his breath shuddered. “Try, okay?” He smiled.

Rilon nodded quickly, his heart racing with panic. It threatened to choke him, but he managed to force it down and gave his brother a repeated nod.

As though he were taking his first steps, Rilon stumbled down the walkway. He let go of his brother's hands and straightened his posture. His space expanded just a bit more. The walkway had become clear, a gray mismatching of cobblestones, while the world around him was still a blur of color.

Asiah went to catch him as he stumbled again, but Rilon held out his hands and dismissively waved him away.

As long as I don't think about it, I'm fine.

This hadn't been Hyde's doing, the panic. These were just his own dysfunctional impulses. They had sensed danger and had promptly sent him into a whirl of panic.

Why did his mind immediately blame the fractured half when it was only himself to blame?

It didn't matter.

Rilon reassured himself as such, still unsteadily making his way down the walkway, which would eventually lead to one of the main streets of the city which also would be filled with…

Rilon swallowed uneasily.

_People_.

“Ri?”

As he stumbled again, Asiah rushed to catch him, but again he dismissed him and reassured his brother that he would be fine. “I’m okay.” He murmured. “And I am fully aware of how ridiculous I look.”

Asiah stood close to him, still cautious as though he didn’t fully believe him, and Rilon knew he didn’t.

What did topple him over was when Jackie raced over to him, bowling him over onto the walkway.

“Oi, what the hell was that for?” Rilon broke his fall with his hands, scraping them painfully against the walkway’s stones. “I don’t need more panic today.”

“Oh, um,” Jackie stood, meticulously brushing off her dress and once again fixing her collar for what had to be the twelfth time that day. “Sorry. I didn’t see you.”

Rilon got to his feet and stared at his hands, wincing when he both felt and saw the tiny scrapes in his hands. It was too late to go back to the Tower — he would just have to go back later to clean up.

“Well, I guess we should go.” Again, Rilon winced, feeling his hands start to tremble from what could only be anxiety, and due to that same anxiety, he stuffed his hands in his coat pockets. He stared up and still found that the world beyond the walkway was a blur. He glanced at Asiah for help and saw his brother’s amber eyes flash, and he knew he’d gotten the message. “There’s no wasting time, Asi.”

Asiah flinched; he must've noticed the change of emotion in Rilon's gaze. When Jackie had backed up to join her sister, Asiah glanced in her direction before turning back on Rilon. “Are you alright?”

Rilon pulled his shaking hands out of his pockets. They had grown even worse than before and were simply too hard to hide.

_Not here. Not now._

He couldn't risk a change in front of anyone, especially not his brother. He didn't want to show Asiah a murderer's face.

What was it that he said when he wanted to calm himself? What instructions did he follow every morning on the balcony when he was preparing himself for the day? Vaguely, he knew and repeated those words to the best of his knowledge.

_Breathe in, breathe out slowly. Release the tension, bring in the calm. Don’t pay attention to the outside world, just yourself and yourself alone._

Almost immediately, Rilon relaxed. His hands still shook, but it wasn't as terrible as it had been, and so he looked up at his brother and smiled.

“I'll be fine,” he said. “I'll be alright.”

Asiah briefly stared at the ground; he sighed after a few moments, then shot another cautious glance toward the girls, who appeared to be waiting impatiently. He nodded as if to reassure them both that Rilon would be fine.

Rilon flinched as he walked closer, and again as Asiah held both of his hands again. “For the last time, and be honest with me, are you sure you're alright?”

Rilon's breath grew heavy. He couldn't be honest, and even if he was, he'd still be lying to himself. He didn’t know how to answer that question.

So he lied, nodding, dealing with the guilty repercussions that came with that response.

Asiah didn’t let go of his hands for a moment, squeezing them briefly before they slipped away. “Let’s go, before you make anyone else worry.”

He nodded at the girls, who giggled, which promptly drew a stifled chuckle from Rilon.

“I’m good.” He waved his hand about, dismissing them. “Let’s head to the church. We shall not be late.”

Asiah was surprised at his brother’s sudden change of formality, but he wasn’t worried, at least, not for now.

As they walked down the main street, he shot his brother another glance, in what could have possibly been the fourth time that minute. That time, he had been caught by Rilon, who shot him a glare, and gave him the same excuses, the same lies.

_I’m fine._

Jackie and Frigga had gone inside the church once they had reached it, a short distance away from the Tower, but apparently far enough for Rilon to make a big deal out of it.

_It’s a damn church. It’s not that far._

He did care about his brother — he honestly did, but sometimes he felt that all Rilon did… he just… got in the way too much.

“I need to head inside Ri.”

His brother had his forehead pressed against the doors of the church, and upon closer inspection, Asiah saw that he had his eyes closed, muttering incomprehensible words under his breath in what could only be his first language.

_Reassurances_.

Asiah regretted his earlier statements. He was glad that he hadn’t said his thoughts aloud, but either way, he wouldn’t have been able to take them back.

“_I need to go inside_,” Asiah repeated, his hand on the door.

Rilon raised his head at the sudden switch of language and blinked. Asiah could see a small flash of distress in his eyes, so minute that he might have missed it.

“_Can I go inside, Ri?_”

Rilon nodded, muttering a barely audible, “_Ja_,” and stepping away from the door.

Asiah opened the doors, which were nearly completely stained glass and rose far over his head. Once they shut, he turned around, watching his brother’s translucent silhouette.

Rilon was hesitant but eventually went back to what he was doing, leaning his head against the door. He banged his head on the door several times before Asiah saw him throw his head back and heard a muffled scream.

Asiah conflicted, turned his gaze away. It took him a.split second longer than he would have liked, and it felt risky leaving two young girls by themselves in a centuries-old church in the middle of London.

He'd known his brother a lot longer compared to the — what — day and a half he'd known those girls.

Asiah snarled, staring at the glass door. Rilon was now sitting behind them, resting his back and head against them.

That finalized his decision.

He headed back outside.

“Lonely?”

_Oh, so he's back._

A hand ruffled his hair, although cautious. Rilon waved it away and stared up at his brother.

“Where are the girls?”

Asiah avoided his gaze, staring at the doors, or perhaps, inside. As he opened his mouth to speak, Rilon interrupted.

“Don't answer that.”

“Fine.” Asiah knelt before him. “But they’re both inside; both are okay, I’m sure… unless they’ve broken some windows.”

“You’d have to worry more about Jackie, then.” Rilon laughed, which in all honestly felt like a sniffle.

Asiah sighed and patted his shoulder. “Well, you’re back. You can come inside with me and I’ll let you rest, or you can stay out here… And look like a complete idiot like I’m looking like right now.”

_Better you and not me._ Rilon got to his feet and opened the door. Asiah followed close to him, almost breathing down his neck, much as he had before…

_No. I should be happy for him. Nothing to worry about from me._

He stepped into a vast room, lined with many rows of church-benches — it was some English word he had never bothered to learn no matter how easy he assumed that it might have been.

Up front was where Asiah would stand, upon some short platform of carpeted crimson red.

From the front bench was where Rilon would watch, painfully jealous that he would never be up there. Jealousy was just a barrier, an excuse to cover up his guilt. If he wanted to succeed someone at any time, it had to be his brother… not his excuse of a father.

Yet that wasn’t likely to happen. For all he knew, Rilon could die before his brother, and whatever son or daughter, or any other relative Asiah had aside from him, would succeed him instead.

“Ri, if you need to sit down, I’m not going to -”

“I’m fine, like the millions of times I’ve said before.” Rilon paced on ahead of his brother down the aisle at a frightening speed that surprised even himself.

However, he hesitated as he reached the front bench. The platform was hardly feet in front of him… he could change his mind. He still had time.

_No_.

_I’ve made my decision_.

He sat down on the bench with a sigh and tilted his head back. He wanted to escape to the mind space, the only place he could really find his peace.

But he startled as someone sat down beside him. When he opened his eyes, he expected it to be one of the girls, but when Hyde suddenly startled, Rilon nearly leaped from his seat.

_What the hell is Alva doing here?_

“Oh dear God, it's you.” He muttered inaudibly in English, before realizing that the man spoke hardly a word of such language. Rilon sat back down on the bench and stared at the platform. He stole a cautious glance at a nitpicky Asiah, who was on the platform, before looking back to the man — Alva — and unconsciously slipping into the language he somehow knew that Alva spoke, some off-put German that still felt weird on his tongue even though he had spoken it multiple times before.

“Why are you back?”

“_Reasons_…” Alva muttered coldly. “I'm a family friend. Why can't I invite myself?”

“I don't recall you ever knowing me.” Rilon flinched as Asiah flashed his gaze towards him, then narrowed. There was a clearly etched scowl on his lips. “Or… I definitely don't remember you being a friend.”

“I get it…” Alva leaned back on the bench, glaring back at Asiah. They both clearly recognized each other, so why didn't Rilon, if not vaguely?

_Was he that missing person?_

Rilon briefly studied Alva's face before it became too painful to look at, and stared at the floor.

_More importantly, what’s the panic for, Edward?_

_It’s not important…_

_Edward_.

_He’s been here for longer than you thought_.

Rilon shot Alva another glance, to which Alva smiled innocently.

_He’s been gone for almost thirteen years, my dear Arlett._

Rilon sat up and abruptly spoke again, but Alva didn’t startle as he hoped.

“How old are you?”

“What does this have to do with the current conversation?” Alva sat up straighter, staring at Asiah rather than him.

“Just answer the question, _asshole_.” Rilon snarled.

“I don’t keep count, but I’d say it’s somewhere in the thirties.” Alva leaned back as Asiah approached the two of them. He still had that same scowl on his face from moments ago.

He spoke, but the words did not immediately register to Rilon. Alva opened his mouth to speak but Rilon quickly hushed him.

He waved his hand for his brother to repeat his words, hushing Alva once more as he attempted to speak again.

“What is he doing back here?” His breath quickened as people began to file in. “Wait, don’t tell me. We’ll speak later.”

He hurried back as Rilon opened his mouth to reply and stood there as if he had never gone over there.

Alva chuckled, then sat back. Rilon looked away, near the platform, where he saw the girls watching Asiah. He beckoned them over with a nod of his head, and they ran as fast as they could, flinging themselves into the bench just behind Rilon and Alva. They didn't question who Alva was or why he was there, and they couldn't, anyway, as a figure which Rilon supposed was a priest or something similar to such stepped onto the platform before Asiah.

He's going to say something about Lear. Rilon thought quickly before the priest figure even spoke. He had assumed correctly.

“It has been quite a sad few days —”

“_Pathetic_…” Alva echoed Rilon's — and to an extent Hyde's — thoughts. “What did they say his cause of death was?”

“Shush.” Rilon shot him a glare.

“But, even as there are sad days, we must usher them away to make room for better ones.”

“Shouldn't you be up there?” Rilon felt Alva's gaze burning into him.

“Yes, now shush as I said.”

“Why aren't you?”

Rilon didn't feel the need to reply, quietly hushing Alva again. His temper with the man was growing short.

“It’s because of -”

“I said _shush_. Now shut up before I make you.”

Silently, Hyde chuckled. _I don’t like what you’re implying here, Arlett._

_You’re one to talk._

Hyde chuckled again but didn’t add anything further.

Rilon turned his attention back to the platform. Asiah had knelt down before the priest, who then place some sort of blue crown upon his head. The same one, Rilon vaguely knew that Lear had occasionally worn.

Asiah stood and turned to face the crowd. He was nervous, although his face appeared calm — his hands were shaking — he wanted to run.

He didn’t want to be here as much as Rilon didn’t.

“So, let us let go of this trying time — “

I’m going to find that quite hard. Rilon added to himself.

“And welcome the Seventeenth President of the Kingdoms: President Asiah Arlett.”

Asiah smiled — again nervously — and raised his hand to signal for the people to rise. Rilon stood upon the command, but instead of staying there and congratulating his brother in whatever way these people were, he slipped away on the opposite side of the main aisle, mostly unnoticed for the exception of Alva, who followed him with an uneasy gaze.

He’d kept Hyde hidden for too long. He was too stressed to restrain him.

Rilon opened a small door at the end of the small aisle, which led to a small, dark room; he shot wary glances everywhere to make sure that nobody was staring. Reassured that nobody was paying too close attention, he slipped inside.

It was too dark inside.

Where the hell had Rilon left him this time?

It felt too cramped.

_Closet. I hate you so much right now._

_I’m trying._

“Where am I, then?”

_Where the hell do you think, Edward?_

Judging from the dusty smell, which was what first told him where he was, Hyde began to investigate further, with what light — or lack thereof — he had.

It smelled too… what word would describe it to the most accurate sense?

It came to his mind almost too quickly.

_Antique. Possibly centuries old._

“You’ve stooped so low, dear Arlett.” Hyde ruffled his hair to the best of his ability and took Rilon’s glasses and coat off. He stuffed the glasses in his pants pocket while he left the coat on the floor. Rilon wouldn’t miss it — he had hated the outfit, anyway.

Cautiously, he peeked out of the closet, his breath quick.

Nobody was watching.

He slipped out and quietly shut the door.

_Alva’s in the front if you wanted to meet him._

Hyde smiled to himself. The strange man he had met in the marketplace was here. He was close. Closer than he had expected.

Rilon had led Hyde here deliberately to meet Alva, hadn’t he?

_Oh, my dear, you are so good._

He paced down the aisle, watching the people among the benches. Some shuffled uneasily or nervously, others were muttering under their breaths, but only a stray few glanced at him, but looked away with what Hyde would call shock upon their faces.

He only muttered a curse or two under his own breath, reaching where Alva was sitting and sitting to his left, although out of arm’s length away.

Out of the corner of his eye, Hyde saw Alva shoot a glance in his direction. Hyde looked away and stared at the wall as though it had suddenly become interesting. Like back at the marketplace, his face burned for some unknown reason. He didn’t want to know the emotion he was feeling, but it surely wasn’t embarrassment — he knew that.

_God, I feel stupid_.

He turned his gaze upon the platform, where he unconsciously knew the new President stood. The other figure that was supposed to be there was missing, possibly having up and disappeared someplace that Hyde did not want to guess.

Hyde shrunk as the President searched the vast room, worry sparking in his eyes. Hyde prayed desperately that he would not see him, or at the very worst, recognize him. His cover that he had hidden behind for so long would be blown — he knew that for sure.

Fortunately, the President gave up easily, too easily. He stepped off the platform as people began to file out and beckoned two girls out of the bench behind Hyde, and left after the many others.

Hyde shot a glance toward Alva, who watched the others cautiously but did not move. He appeared as though he wouldn’t leave anytime soon.

“Surprised to see you show up.” He finally spoke after some minutes, but his voice was low. “I thought you didn't care.”

Hyde muttered another curse to himself, his heart in his throat. “I didn't.” He said. “Can't I just invite myself in for the hell of it?”

“I —” Alva began to stammer, but decided against it. “I shouldn't say anything…”

Hyde smiled, internally celebrating. He had gotten Alva to hush up easier than he had thought.

Then he lowered his voice, glancing around for any possible stragglers. “Alva?”

“What do you want?” Alva was staring at the ceiling, appearing to not be listening.

“I have an idea…” Hyde got up from the bench as Alva turned his head back. He smiled, now interested. “A proposition of sorts.”

He glanced around the church again. It didn't feel safe. “I don't think we're alone.”

“Well, of course not,” Alva muttered. “Did you think we'd be?” There was a hint of a smirk on his face. He liked this.

Alva rose from the bench; he too glanced around. Once he seemed to be certain that they were both safe, he turned away from the bench and began wandering back down the aisle. Hyde watched him until Alva seemed to realize that there was nobody following him. He turned back around, although already halfway down the aisle.

“Are you alright, Edward?”

Hyde had only partially heard the question. He seized the back of the bench at a sudden feeling of vertigo, not knowing what had caused it or where it had come from.

“Edward,” Alva startled Hyde out of his brief stupor. “Are you alright?”

Hyde avoided his gaze, nodding with a breathless, “Yeah...”

He held the back of the bench tighter, reassuring Alva. “I'm fine...”

Then he composed himself, letting go of the bench to fix the cuffs of his shirt sleeves. He shot a small glance toward Alva, but the man had begun his pace back down the aisle.

“Are you going to wait for me?”

Alva turned around, blinking at him. He swung around a pillar at the end of the aisle, then collapsed into one of the benches near it with a loud, impatient sigh. “Fine.”

Hyde ruffled his hair, rather not preferring the niceties of the ways Rilon had done his own. When he began to bring his hands down, he noticed something on his right, specifically.

Rilon had been wearing a ring? For how long?

Unconsciously and instantly he understood what message Rilon had sent him.

Hyde took it off and stared at it, glancing at Alva to make sure that he hadn't seen him. Quickly, he stashed it in the same pocket as he had done with his glasses, then walked away from the bench and strode down to meet Alva.

“So, proposition…” Hyde drew out the word as Alva stood to meet him.

“I have a feeling I know what you’re talking about.” Alva took out the matchbox Hyde remembered that he had, and held it up to show him. “You know what I am.”

_Arsonist._ Rilon grumbled quietly. Mein Gott, _Alva._

He strode to the vast corridor, leaning against the large stained glass entrance door.

“You wouldn’t…” Hyde followed after him.

“This place?” Alva smiled, patting the door with his free hand. “This is a coronation church. I wouldn’t chance it. Too big.”

Then he blinked, staring at Hyde. It seemed to dawn on him what the younger man had done. “Oh. _Oh_…”

He tossed the matchbox once and chuckled once. “You knew the previous President.”

“Quite,” Hyde crossed his arms and stared at the floor. The entire fight flashed in his mind. The wounds he had forgotten that he had now seemed to slightly throb. He hadn’t considered that Alva may have noticed them, especially on Rilon. The details would be too similar.

He figured that it didn’t matter.

“Quite… _personally_.” he sneered.

Alva hesitated, but his look of amusement didn’t leave his face. He pushed the door open and stepped outside.

Hyde gave himself a moment to silently scold himself, then shook his head.

_It doesn’t matter, as you said._

“Right. Stay quiet.” Hyde shook his head again. He quickly walked outside, joining Alva on the steps of the church.

“We can talk here.” Alva strode down the steps, hesitating with each one until he was on the street. “Much safer. Nobody will hear.”

There was that nagging uneasiness that someone would, but it was so far back in his mind that he couldn’t completely worry.

“Yes, proposition. So, you know what happened with the previous President?” Hyde hurried down the steps after Alva, who had already started walking down the street, in a direction Hyde supposed was the Tower.

“From the coronation and what you mentioned, I’ve figured it out.” Alva didn’t spare even a glance toward him. He startled as if noticing the matchbox was still in his hand, then stashed it away.

“Well, then.” Hyde flashed him a smile.


	17. Chapter Sixteen

Hyde had left Alva to wander about the lobby while he had excused himself to head up the stairwell. He figured that he could trust the man enough on his own, as, after all, he had survived that way for such a long time.

He wouldn’t risk setting fire to such a large tower. That’s about as big a risk as setting fire to that church, and I know for a moment that he had considered such.

_You better not be considering what I think you’re considering._ Rilon piped up after God knows how long of silence.

Hyde stared at his hands as he traipsed up the stairs, and then hesitated. He thought he had seen a flash, a quick glimpse of something.

After a minute, he shook his head. It wouldn’t matter in the long run, as it was such a minor detail.

“I’m not considering anything, dear Arlett.” Hyde swung around on the railing as he reached a corner and nearly threw himself up the next flight of stairs. “Just maybe a simple thing to… get people excited.”

_I don’t like your tone, young man._

_“‘Young man_’... Oh, that’s new.” On the tenth floor, Hyde leaned against the railing and stared across the hall to a door. It wasn’t his destination, of course, but for some weird reason, it had caught his attention all the same.

Maybe it was because his brain wanted to distract him from something more painful. He shoved a memory back as it threatened to resurface and flung himself into the hall.

_Honestly, what the hell are you doing?_

“You’ll find out soon enough.” Hyde tapped his nose, chiding his alter in a singsong voice. “Soon enough…”

Rilon began stammering, frantically searching for words. After a moment he both gave up and shut up.

Hyde resumed his short trek to Rilon’s rooms but hesitated when he then stood before Rilon’s door. He shook off that same memory that had threatened to surface before and reluctantly pulled the door open.

He knew what he had to do. From his vague memory — his dreamlike observances — memories that Rilon had shoved back in his memory and would rather forget, there was something that glinted sharply in the corner of his mind. Something he needed to complete his deed.

Rilon tried to forget, but Hyde remembered.

He strode to the desk and pulled one of the drawers open. He smiled as he saw that his memory had not failed him.

_Oh, my dear Arlett_. He sighed almost longingly with a smile. _How I do love you._

He pulled out a shard in almost the same moment that he had caught his eye. When he stared at the reflection, however, he found that it was not him but rather Rilon staring back. There was this painful message of ‘why’ that made Hyde turn away and bared his teeth.

He squeezed the shard, feeling it cut into his hand and distantly hearing the dripping of blood onto the floor. For a second, and before he dashed the thought, he worried that Rilon’s brother would find it and worry.

He wouldn’t.

This was Rilon’s normality.

Hyde stared at his hands, finding that they were more blood-covered than he had originally thought. Maybe he had cut his hand worse than he perceived.

He shook his hand and snarled, holding the glass tighter in his hand and exiting the room without closing the door.

* * *

“Oh, you didn’t have to leave me. I could have — Edward, you’re bleeding.”

Hyde took a wary glance around. The lobby was starting to empty with the sunset, and hanging around was going to make them both look suspicious.

He stashed away the shard, staring at the palm of his hand. There was a decently sized cut running along the length of his palm, but not feel enough to cause much worry but enough apparently for Alva to.

“It's… it's nothing.” He smiled. He took Alva's hand and squeezed it to reassure him that what he had said was the truth. “I promise.”

“You're still bleeding, Eddie.” Alva now had blood on his hand as Hyde released it. Just a speck of Hyde's blood, but it was Hyde's blood.

“We need to go.” Hyde turned away and faced the lobby doors.

When he turned back, Alva had disappeared.

Hyde caught footsteps heading past him toward the doors, turning back to where he had been previously facing. He snarled.

_That ass…_

He shook his head and followed after Alva, who had pulled the matchbox out of his pocket once again.

“Alva —”

The man turned back from the door and smiled at him. “I told you… I wouldn't chance it.”

“But —”

The conversation wasn't worth having. Hyde shut his mouth.

He clenched his injured hand into a fist and winced as pain split through it. He was still bleeding but paid hardly any attention to that detail.

Alva pushed open the door, took Hyde's hand, and dragged him out after him. Hyde did not find time for protest, finding himself out in the cold, November evening.

Alva lit a match and held it before his face. It provided a tiny amount of light but was just enough to show the joy-filled glint spark in his eyes. “Any suggestions?”

Hyde turned his gaze down the street, deliberately avoiding Alva’s gaze. He needed to make up his mind before Alva suspected even in the slightest that his whole ‘proposition’ was just some sort of trick.

That was the last thing that Hyde needed.

Slowly, he raised his hand, pointing down the street in the direction that they had come earlier that day. He stared back at Alva — who had then blown out the match — and smiled eerily.

He had never smiled around Alva; what happened in the marketplace did not count in the slightest.

However, Alva had not flinched and showed not even a remote sign of fear in his body language. He echoed Hyde’s eerie smile and took his hand, dragging him again.

Hyde refused, letting go of Alva’s hand turned to face him. “I know what I’m doing.” He pulled the shard of his pocket, bringing the pointed edge to Alva’s chin. Still, the older man showed no sign of fear, or he was great at hiding it. “We don’t need an unnecessary death like last time.”

Alva sniffed as Hyde lowered the weapon. “Last time?”

“I -” Hyde waved his hand. “It doesn’t matter.”

He turned away from Alva, heading away from him toward his destination on a nearly empty street. Distantly, he heard Alva's footsteps following behind him, and his breath was strained and tense.

“Who was it, Edward?”

Hyde didn't reply, more focused on his trek. He hesitated when he reached the steps of the church, then shut his eyes tightly. Jastyn's death flashed in his mind so vividly that it nearly made him scream. She was just a causality that wouldn't matter somewhere down the road.

“Nobody…” he said. “Just some _stupid_ newbie guard.”

He tapped the edge of the shard on his chin, hesitantly stepping upon each stair as though it would break under him. Someone whooshed past him, and he found Alva at the top of the stairs with no fear of being caught at all.

“What the hell are you doing?” Hyde bared his teeth. He held up the shard as if to remind Alva. “We're not burning this down.”

“I know… I'm just… picking the lock…”

“One, you have matches… two, I don't think this church has a lock…” Hyde brushed past Alva and pushed the door open.

“Right. Right. I knew that.”

Hyde sighed, which echoed through the vast entrance hall, and shook his head.

It was only lit by candlelight, which provided hardly any help for Hyde until his eyes adjusted. Alva's silhouette crept ahead of him and stared back hesitantly.

“Just go...” He whispered, and beckoned Hyde forward, creeping towards the pillar Hyde had remembered he sat by earlier that day. His silhouette's hand brushed it longingly then strode down the aisle without a glance backward.

Hyde crept after him. The night illuminated itself in the stained glass window-walls to either side of him, staining the benches in a multitude of colors. He strode casually down the aisle as if he had been merely a visitor, and there was no deed to be done.

A purring noise rose in his throat. He stared ahead at the platform, to where Alva was frantically searching. He opened his mouth to speak but realized that they may not be alone.

This was what they needed.

He didn't want to risk being caught prematurely.

Instead, Hyde frantically made a slitting motion across his throat with his hand, hoping Alva would notice. He didn't, which only made Hyde more frantic.

He dove toward the platform, quite nearly crashing into Alva.

“Jesus Christ, Edward.” Alva almost fell over, startled. His silhouette winced and a brief light sparked before dying. He had burned himself.

“You're not setting this building on fire.” Not when Rilon still had a chance.

“This place?” Alva's voice broke and he chuckled. “Not bloody likely. Yet, from my part of the deal, you said —”

“Yes,” Hyde heard footsteps. “Now shush.”

He grabbed Alva and covered his mouth with a hand. Any protests he made became muffled before he grew quiet and huffed heavily.

There was still that risk of being caught prematurely. He didn't want it to be him, but rather the other way around.

A door opened to the side of the platform.

Hyde let go of Alva's mouth and dragged him into the shadow the door cast. His breath hitched in fear, and he swore many curses under his breath.

Silently, he begged Alva to get out of there before he did, before any one of them got caught.

_I'm not cowardly. I killed the fucking President of all people. What's one more, insignificant being_?

Hyde had almost forgotten about the shard amid his panic; his breath quickened, quite relieved.

He stood, and still, Jastyn's death reminded him that they could not risk any casualties. What guilt he felt over her, Lear or any of his ‘experiments’ had been quelled by the euphoria he now felt.

They were all petty and insignificant.

“Edward,” Alva protested, but there was no fear in his voice, or, as Hyde had said earlier, he was exceptionally adept at hiding it. Hyde spared him not even a glance as he stepped into the light cast by the door.

“Edward,” Alva’s tone grew harsher, although quieter. “What the hell are you doing?”

Hyde didn’t reply, holding the shard above his head so that it reflected the light onto the person leaving the room. They flinched; Hyde knew that they hadn’t been expecting him.

Clearly.

Alva shuffled away, dashing behind the person and into the room. The door slammed and the person flinched again as the light was dashed away.

“Good evening.” Hyde smiled, tilted his head, and lowered the shard. The silhouette nodded sharply, crossing their arms. They didn’t speak.

“Weren’t expecting me, were you?” His tone dropped, growing childish, as though he were chiding them like they were such. “Were you, my dear?”

The figure shook their head. Like Alva, they showed no fear of the fact that they were caught. Hyde saw this as a potential weakness, stepping forward until he was uncomfortably close. He saw them blink quickly in surprise, but still, no fear flashed in their eyes.

Hyde knew who they were. He, no, Rilon, had seen them.

He was the same person as Rilon had seen at the coronation ceremony. The same one who had spoken of Lear in such a way that Rilon had quailed in disgust.

It was likely that this man had been caught up in the same lies, but still… he had to act upon those thoughts. Protect him.

He lifted the shard to the man’s throat, but still, they showed no fear. They were hiding something.

Hyde reacted as they pulled something out of their robes. There was a deafening explosion; Hyde's left arm suddenly shrieked in pain, forcing him to drop the shard. It shattered as both he and the man collapsed to the platform.

_Why the fuck does the — God, why the hell is he armed?_

Blood flowed from the wound that he found in his left shoulder, staining the sleeve of his shirt crimson. He was unable to move his left arm without it shrieking in protest.

After a moment, he disregarded it, biting back a scream. He stared at the man, who was on his knees, staring at him with fire in his eyes. His breath gurgled when he tried to speak and subsequently failed, suggesting that Hyde had inflicted something close to a mortal wound, a wound to his throat, he suspected.

Even if the man survived, it was very likely that he wouldn’t be able to speak again. It wasn’t likely at this rate. The man could not call out because of the severity of that wound.

Hyde did not want him to speak. He did not want him to live if he was going to speak such words.

_And this fucking arm. It _fucking_ hurts_. _He can burn in hell because_ — He bit back a groan, clutching at his wound, wincing when his hand came away stained as red as his shirt sleeve.

The door opened, arousing Hyde from his pain-filled trance when the door opened. Alva stood regally in the doorway, holding up a piece of glowing metal. Whatever coincidence or correlation this had to what situation Hyde was currently in… he honestly didn’t want to know. It was more than likely meant for some other purpose than what Hyde desperately needed.

The man paid no attention to the other, who had fallen on the floor and passed out. He would die soon without and medical attention.

Hyde wasn't a doctor. That was Rilon.

And there was no way he was letting him out in front of Alva.

Hyde paid the man no attention but rather focused his attention on Alva.

“What the hell is that for?” He spat.

“Oh, I was trying to test the —”

“Does it look like I give a shit?” Hyde bared his teeth, biting back another scream. He didn't want an answer.

Alva blinked quickly, pointing at the still-hot metal in his hand. “Oh, do you need this for —”

“What the hell do you think?” Hyde was nearly crying by now, spitting out more curses at that moment than he had in his lifetime. “Just fucking help me, will you?”

Alva spared no time getting to Hyde, also disregarding the man's body on the floor. He knelt before him, quickly assessing the damage.

“He did a number on you…” Even he was surprised.

“As if it weren’t obvious already, _Liebchen_.” Hyde snarled. When Alva went to inspect the wound further, Hyde spat, “Don’t touch me! I’m fine!”

“Well, you’re spitting in pain for what reason, then?” Alva shot a glance at the burning metal, which had dulled slightly but appeared to not be dying anytime soon. “Well…”

He rolled up his coat sleeve, tearing off a sizable portion of his shirt sleeve. “This will hurt.”

Hyde’s breath hitched in fear; he scooted away from Alva, much to the protest of his arm. “What will?”

He stole a glance at what Alva held in his hand. “Oh, no. No. There’s no fucking way you’re getting that near me.”

“Fine.” Alva sniffed, standing. “Let yourself bleed out. Let your wound get infected.”

With his chidings, Hyde felt much like an insolent child. The face he pulled made him look as such.

After a quick moment of deliberation, he held out his uninjured hand and said, “Fine. Give it.”

Alva held up the torn sleeve. “This?”

“Yes,” Hyde waved his hand frantically. “Give it.”

Alva paced back to Hyde and knelt before him. “I’m warning you again — this will hurt.” He held out the torn sleeve. “Just…” He faltered. “It’ll hurt. I know personally.” He fixed the collar of his shirt, showing a decently-sized burn scar on his neck. It looked like he’d been branded.

“Get it over with, you bastard and you can tell me your personal experiences later.” Hyde took the sleeve from Alva and bit down at it, mainly to get himself to shut up and stop talking.

Alva worked quickly, tearing off Hyde’s own bloodied sleeve. He dismissively waved his hand as if getting rid of a thought, then nodded at Hyde.

The pain registered before Hyde even reacted to it. When it did, Hyde bit back even another scream and tears sprang to his eyes.

He wondered how many times Alva had felt like this. At least once before, as Hyde has confirmed, but were there others where he just felt helpless?

He wanted to cry. It hurt. Everything hurt. He bit down on the cloth and, for once, actually screamed, very nearly startling Alva, who dropped the metal with a yelp.

“_Mein Gott_… Jesus Christ, Edward, you're not dying.”

“I will end your _fucking_ bloodline. I'll watch you suffer. I'll kill you many times over.”

“It's not likely to come to that.”

“Don't mess with me then, _mein Liebchen._”

“That's the second time you've called me that, Edward. Are you delirious or are you flirting with me?”

Still biting into the cloth, Hyde spat, “Neither, _bitchass_.”

Alva snorted and nearly ripped the cloth out of Hyde's teeth. He tore off a piece of it and quickly wrapped it around Hyde's shoulder. Hyde winced as the older man pulled it tight. “You can end my bloodline later, okay?”

Hyde snorted back but said nothing further.

At that moment, he felt his consciousness slipping. Rilon was coming back. He wasn't going to like this mess.

Hurriedly, he pointed at the man, who had now been dead for several minutes. He didn’t say anything but sent a signal to Alva, who also stared at him.

“Oh, him?” Alva took out his matchbox and lit a new match. Hyde immediately knew what he was doing and shook his head.

“I’m not setting the church on fire,” Alva muttered. “Just him.”

Hyde stood, pulling a crumpled face of annoyance. He waved his hand dismissively and stumbled off the platform, queasy.

His back was turned to Alva, who, fortunately, wasn’t paying attention anyway, so, for the most part, he was safe. Through his trek down the aisle, he stumbled like a drunken man and knocked loudly — several times — into a bench, startling himself to stare back at Alva.

The man still had his full attention on his matches. He tossed them aside in succession, and the flames eventually grew so bright that Hyde had to narrow his eyes against it.

He looked as though he were preparing a sacrifice.

Hyde couldn't stay and watch — although that was what he would have rather preferred — as now he risked Rilon coming out sooner. In front of Alva, it would be a catastrophe.

Cautiously he resumed his trek down the aisle. His stumbling grew worse, and this time he had gotten the attention of Alva, which only prompted him to move even quicker.

He practically ran to the door, pushed it open, but didn’t even make it past the first step down.

* * *

  
What was everything? Was it numb, or did it hurt?

The answer wasn’t clear.

All he knew was that he was still near the church. Outside. Had he left? How much time had he lost? Hours? Days?

He assessed the less obvious damage first — the dull ache of his head and his neck — then the more obvious damage. His left sleeve was gone, and there was what Rilon could have supposed was a makeshift tourniquet on that same shoulder. That arm throbbed more than anything, throwing him into nauseous vertigo.

_One less, dear Arlett._

“One less?” He didn’t give Hyde time to reply, choking out an, “_Oh mein Gott._”

He forced himself to his feet, using the church doors behind him as a brace. This… what had -

Rilon forced himself not to get sick, no matter how much it threatened to choke him out and turned to stare at the inside of the church. A bright, almost blinding light, came from what must have been the platform.

He didn’t want to guess.

He just needed to get back to the Tower without being noticed.

And without panicking.

Even though it was a short trek.

God, why did the outside have to be so… big?

Rilon swallowed uneasily, pushing off from the door and stumbling down the stairs. He nearly fell to the ground as he reached it, his arm desperately screaming as he used it to break his fall.

What had happened he didn't want to know.

* * *

The Tower loomed over him like a night watchman, beacon as he approached. It was the only vast thing that Rilon even remotely felt safe around. He hugged himself and smiled, restraining himself from waving at it as if it had been living.

The door was a strain to open with one hand, but he got through into the lobby easier than he had suspected.

“Ri?”

He wasn't alone. He reacted to the voice instantly.

“Asi, I can explain.”

But his brother wasn't here to rebuke him, Rilon was told by his tone. “What happened to you?”

Right.

He was a mess.

“I...” He quickly searched his mind although he knew the answer. “I don't know.”

The subject needed changing before Asiah kept pestering him. “Where are the girls?”

Luckily Asiah saw what he was doing, what he wanted, and avoided pressing it. “They're in bed. Why?”

Oh, I don't have a right to worry where my daughters are? Rilon dashed the thought away as he felt it unnecessary. He sighed, shaking his head and muttering a silent curse to himself.

Asiah moved toward the lobby desk and sat on it. He held a pen in his hand, tapping it quickly and repeatedly on the desk, much to Rilon’s annoyance.

Would you stop that incessant tapping before I come over there and personally strangle you? He wanted to say that aloud but refrained from doing so, ruffling his already messed-up hair.

“Nobody hurt you… did they?” Asiah turned the conversation back on the very subject that Rilon had wanted to avoid. Rilon bared his teeth, nearly shaking his head. His wounds were too obvious for him to lie.

“Not… badly…” He muttered.

Asiah dropped the pen to the floor and leaped off the desk. He strode over to Rilon before speaking again. “Not badly?” He took Rilon's hand and held it up, despite Rilon's protests. “Then what's this?” He glanced at his shoulder as he asked it.

“I —” Again, Rilon stammered. He shook his head when the words didn't immediately come to him.

Asiah dropped his hand.

“Go get yourself cleaned up and rest. We have a meeting in the morning.”

Rilon reluctantly nodded, not able to give a verbal response.

_One less, dear Arlett._ Hyde spoke up, but it was the same response from before.

Then it was another, a single word.

_Three_.


	18. Chapter Seventeen

_Three_.

Rilon knew what that word meant, but at the same time, he did not.

_Three_.

Three days. Three people.

He didn't know who the third had been, nor did he care to know unless that's what the morning meaning brought.

He didn't want to know.

Rilon locked his apartment door behind him, nearly laughing at his thoughts. He was an accident magnet, wasn't he?

Despite the night enveloping the sky, Rilon brushed his hair, fighting it until it was completely free of tangles and whatever mess. He showered quickly next, although he would have preferred doing that before brushing his hair, then got dressed for bed.

When he headed to the sink to brush his hair for the second time, he realized that the mirror had been replaced.

An intruder had figured this out, that the original had been destroyed. It must have been Asiah; only his brother and he had the key unless he'd neglected to close the door.

He stared into it, not surprisingly finding himself looking more battered than he'd ever remembered. The only sleep he remembered getting in the last several nights was that meager few hours, and that was only the day before.

So much had happened since then. So much stress. Too much lost time. Too much…

He was being used by a man who favored euphoria over his health. He favored the thrill over anything. It was _addicting_ to him.

Yet it was taking a toll on the other side, Rilon. He couldn't be the victim. He wasn't blameless. Hyde was just using him for blame.

But for how many years would this last?

So far it had been five years, but beaten and thrown around for three days.

_Five years._

At this rate, Rilon wouldn't last five more.

At last, his exhausted reflection became too sickening to stare at. Rilon reeled away to the back wall, collapsing against it.

Five years, if that. Six at best.

He didn't want to die, to just cease to exist, to live forever in complete nothingness. There was still so much work to do.

So much work. So much more work. He had so much work.

He couldn’t bring his emotions to words, choking out little fragments of sentences that made no sense to him.

He couldn’t… He couldn’t.

This was it. It was all he had left.

He was a monster. He had become his father.

Impossible.

_Impossible_.

**_Impossible_**.

_No._

He couldn't be his father.

His father made him the monster, but Rilon could not be the victim. He was not blameless.

Rilon curled into a tight ball on the floor, clutching his head and nearly tearing his hair out. He opened his mouth to cry out but found that his desperate pleas fell silent into sobbing.

There was nothing worse than when your thoughts turned against you, when nobody knew what you were going through and dismissed it as fine.

He drew in a sharp, sudden breath as he silenced himself.

He needed rest.

There was a meeting tomorrow, and he couldn't skip it.


	19. Chapter Eighteen

_My first order of business... is a fucking meeting over three murders._

Asiah straightened the collar of his jacket, staring at the empty table ahead of him. Soon it wouldn't be like this. He may as well enjoy the silent moments to himself.

Which wasn't long.

A chair was pulled away from the table, and someone fell heavily into it. He knew who they were before they even spoke.

Ri.

“Good morning,” Asiah leaned back in the chair. “How'd you sleep?”

“Sleep is a lie.” Rilon's head fell forward onto the table. His hair fell out of a hastily done ponytail into unkempt tangles. His muffled voice came next. “Where are the girls?”

“Still, resting, Rilon.” He hadn’t remembered to check on them, so he was assuming they were when in actuality he wasn’t so sure.

People began to file in when he began to speak further. Asiah shut his mouth and started up with a nervous smile, nudging Rilon, who startled.

Silently, Asiah pleaded for Rilon to stand, but he didn’t, only painfully staring upward, then leaning back in his chair and sighing.

When Asiah supposed that everyone was there — he didn’t want to keep track as the news would soon spread and everyone would know. There would be paranoia — Asiah could feel it creeping up his spine and nagging him.

But he was the President; if these people needed to look up to him, he had to be strong for them.

He cleared his throat, slamming his hands upon the table. Everyone startled to attention.

“Listen, I know we're all stressed, but we need to get to business.”

_Maybe I'm not a great President._

He shot a glance at his brother, who shook his head almost violently.

Everyone sat down as Asiah did. He shot glances among the people, his Council, wishing that he knew more names than just his brother's — and Amil's. He was here, sitting opposite of Rilon, watching him with such a strange intent that Asiah had to clasp his hands behind his back to keep from fidgeting.

“So, this is my first official meeting. I wish someone else had assumed my position —” he shot a brief glare toward Rilon. “And I wish that this had been under… more _fortunate_ circumstances.”

Lear's death had been murder. Had he gone on any longer, he risked something far worse.

This was as fortunate as his death was going to get.

He hated calling Lear's death fortunate. Any death was unfortunate, especially for a man of his rank.

“I guess you all know the truth by now. Lear Arlett was murdered.”

Although there were a few murmurings, the Council was relatively quiet. Of course, they weren't surprised.

“He wasn't the only one. Guard Jastyn Smith and Officiate Dana Edison. Three people. Three days. This isn't a coincidence. This is a deliberate act of _treason_.”

When everyone startled at the last word, Asiah smiled. He had their attention.

“We have reason to believe that these aren't multiple people. We've ruled out that possibility already. It's too quick for multiple people.”

He was running on pure enthusiasm now. He felt it coursing through his bloodstream, his heart pounding in his ears.

This declaration, however, wasn't an easy one to make.

“Too quick. We know this person had knowledge of the building's layout, and especially —” Asiah struggled to keep his voice steady. “The President's Quarters. The assailant must be found and imprisoned. If they try to flee…”

He stared at the Council, rising from his chair. “_Kill them on sight._”

Rilon rose from his chair, but instead of standing there like Asiah had done, getting up from the chair and storming out of the room.

Asiah shut his mouth. The urge to help his brother was strong, too strong. He sat back in the chair and held tightly onto the arms.

_If anything, he can help himself_.


	20. Chapter Nineteen

Restless, Rilon gave up trying to sleep. The light was coming in, anyway, but only made things worse.

The blood seemed to pound behind his eyes — a stupid migraine. When he sat up and yawned, he reeled back from nausea. The dull ache of his old wounds made everything worse like they were newly inflicted.

_Way to spend a birthday, without sleep and a fucking hangover. Letting you out was a mistake._

_I didn't drink… much._

“My migraine says otherwise…” Rilon groaned. He blinked, as if that would get rid of his headache, and rose, shaking, from the bed. “This entire fucking hangover does…”

He was lucky to have changed into night-clothes when he had reached home, no matter how late it had been. He hadn't bothered to check, but it had been more than a few hours of lying there, completely lost in thought, feeling sick.

“How am I going to excuse myself this time?” He picked his glasses up from where he had left them at the end of the bed, adjusting them when he put them on. It was like staring directly into the sun with his now-clear vision.

_The truth? No, that's going to be a little hard to explain, because —_

“I don't drink, Hyde. I never did.”

_If you go on about Lear, I'm going to throw up._

“This has nothing to do with him,” Rilon rubbed his temples, sighing loudly. “None of this has to do with him. This is all done and it's in the past. He's dead.”

He felt panic beginning to rise in his throat. “He's dead. He's dead.”

_I'm twenty-four but feel much older._

_Crisis, dear Ri?_

_I don’t need thi_s. Rilon pulled his hair back, wishing that a mirror would suddenly appear before him, just to see how ragged he looked from Hyde’s midnight… antics.

How to explain a hangover to your younger brother when you’ve never had a drink in your life. Life lessons, Edward.”

_Fuck you._

“Edward.” Rilon restrained himself from spitting, letting his hair back down. “You know what, I'm going to get ready, and you're going to leave me alone.”

_Well, that's fine with me._

This time, Rilon took his own time getting ready. He hadn't even gotten his coat on when there was a knock at the door. It wasn't Asiah, though Rilon had anticipated as such, as the knock was too light and dainty. With further quick assessment, Rilon also found that the knock had been too loud to be any one of the girls, and plus it couldn't be the girls — both of them were at school.

“I'll… be there in a moment.” He abandoned the thought of putting on his coat, and headed to the main room and opened the door.

It was Alice.

“Oh, dear God.” Rilon murmured to nobody in particular. Yet, he shook his head. “Good morning.”

“Good morning,” she echoed. Rilon caught her searching his face and avoided her gaze. He knew what she could see with those eyes.

“So...” Rilon stared at the floor. “Why are you here?”

_Can't you just hold a normal, casual conversation?_

_Can you respect the fact that I don't want a fucking empath staring into my eyes?_ Rilon internally snapped.

_Fair point._ Hyde said quietly.

“So um, happy birthday, I guess. Although you don't feel that way. Happy.”

_Goddammit_…

“Just…” Rilon stuttered. “Just come in.”

He went to his desk and picked up a quill, tapping it against his chin. Alice sat up in the countertop on the other side of the room.

Rilon watched her as she glanced around, taking in the room, no matter how small she may have perceived it to be.

After a moment, he turned away, dropping the quill upon the floor, then rubbing his temples as the headache he forgot about threatened to resurface.

“You're hurting.” Alice broke the few moments of silence that followed.

Rilon bared his teeth, dropped his hands, and sighed. He, too, was silent for a few moments, but eventually said, “Well, of course, I am. It's this damned headache and everything —”

Rilon cut himself off, the headache stabbing into his skull and burning his eyes. He shut them until the pain faded away and turned toward Alice when he opened them.

“Not that kind of hurt. Not physically, anyway.” Alice swung her legs up onto the countertop and lay down, her cream-colored wings dangling off the edge, yet still stared directly at Rilon.

Rilon shielded his eyes away from her gaze, adjusting his glasses as a portly executed excuse. A nervous laugh forced its way out of his throat. “Not… physically? What absolute nonsense that is, what absolute —”

“You're experienced in hiding your feelings. It was a weapon in your youth. Now it’s a defense mechanism. You hide behind another facade.”

Rilon's heart began racing. Although he deemed it strange, whatever symptoms of the hangover that he had disappeared, possibly dashed away from the shock.

Her wings fluttered. She was just as uneasy as he was.” You just stared at me for a little too long in that doorway. I know it.”

Rilon stammered briefly searching for the words. Finally, dumb, he stuttered, “Know what? That I hide my feelings. That I —”

No. Hyde shut him up with a simple command. She must not know that.

“I know everything. I know your feelings.”

Rilon got up to dismiss her, but sat back down and was floored by her next accusation.

“You're not the only soul in your mind —”

Rilon cut her off abruptly with a nervous laugh. He clasped his hands together. There was no way she could have seen that with the simple glance, but then again, they had caught each other staring.

“That's ridiculous.” He said. “Nobody can have more than one life. Nobody has the ability to switch personalities that easily. It has to be triggered by something.”

“But you do, and I know what triggers it…” Alice got up from the countertop, the look in her eyes insisted that she was telling the truth. “You have a broken mind, a loss of identity. There's one you formed to cope as a child, when...”

_Shut up. Alice just shut up and stop talking._

Both Rilon and Hyde spoke the words internally and simultaneously. Rilon pulled at the collar of his shirt and nervously adjusted his glasses.

Alice's tone dropped — she must have realized, if not felt, his change of mood. “This is a subject you don't easily talk about, is it?”

Rilon shook his head.

“Lear wasn't the saint everyone thought he was.”

It wasn't an exact change of subject, but it startled Rilon all the same.

_Stop it. Just stop it._

He wanted to collect his thoughts, just to send her out. But he knew that she knew his secret, but it hadn't been proven, and constant nagging from her wasn't something he was willing to risk.

After deliberation — and even more fidgeting — he choked out a barely audible, “No.”

“He's the reason why you're hurting. He... hurt you.” Alice continued despite Rilon's inner protests. “Not just emotionally, but —”

Rilon shut his eyes tightly as tears sprung to them. He let go of his clasped hands and felt them twitch. “Physically as well. It was to get his point across because I couldn't fucking understand.”

Alice audibly gasped. Whether it was because of Rilon's words or because of something else, he didn't know. He knew certainly though, that his distress was triggering a change, right in front of her.

“Rilon,” Alice was now standing over him. “Do you need a hug?”

“I —” Rilon was taken aback at the question. He'd never been asked that, especially by Asiah. But his brother was an exception, from the mutual trust that they had in each other, plus there was that almost telepathic link between their feelings.

He wanted to cry, speechless. Still, he nodded, flashing her a rare smile.

She pulled him out of the chair and into a hug. She also wrapped her wings protectively around him. Rilon hadn't had this much comfort in years, not even from his own brother.

He felt... _safe_.

Alice let go after a minute, then gently brushed the edge of her wing against Rilon's chin. It was soft. Although the gesture was meant for him, her next words were meant for Hyde.

“It's alright. You can come out now.”

When he sat down, he was no longer Rilon. He was sick but felt as though a laugh would rid himself of it, but it hadn't.

What had prompted his change? Rilon was in his place of solace. There was no way he could be freaking out, unless…

_Jesus fucking Christ, who is she?_

His reaction was instant. He pulled the chair out from under him and hurled it across the room. The woman that stood beside the countertop dove away as the chair hit the countertop and splintered into pieces.

The woman swore loudly, which was closely followed by another — supposedly Far Eastern — curse.

“People like you are usually more… docile.” The woman brushed off any damage from her blue uniform. She was about as hostile as Hyde was, her wings flared, taking almost the entirety of the width of the room. “But you're —”

“Different?” Hyde sneered. “And invalid. Sick?”

“It doesn't matter.” She held his gaze with a burning intensity — it only took Hyde seconds to figure out what she was doing. She was reading him like a book.

_Fucking empaths._

“You killed the President.” Slowly, her wings folded in. She was gaining some sort of trust from him. “You killed him, but for what reason? Did you want recognition? Fame? Power?”

“Listing off all the villain archetypes.” Hyde stared at her. He smiled, although it was a humorless one. “Such a quick thinker.”

“So are you.” She retorted. “You never considered the consequences.”

_You never considered the repercussions, didn't you?_

Rilon's words flashed in Hyde's mind. He had thought that they had become a distant, forgotten memory, but somehow this woman's words had forced them forward.

_Could she.…?_

_No._

“Lear? Him?” This woman was bringing up things that were laughable. “He never deserved to live. He hurt me. He was going to hurt Arlett. He —” Hyde grimaced. Why was she bringing this up, anyway? Why did she know about this when nobody else did? “If Arlett wasn't going to do something about Lear's bullshit, then I was.”

“Protected him. Like a guardian.”

“No. I am not his guardian. I am not his... anything.” There was a burning jealousy in his words. Hyde crossed his arms and his fingers twitched. After a moment he realized that he still appeared as Rilon had and pulled out his hair. When he took off Rilon's glasses, he pulled a face, baring his teeth and raising an eyebrow. “I'm a fracture if nothing else.”

“So you don’t think of yourself as human.” The woman appeared hurt.

“I… I do, but -” Hyde grimaced again, wishing he had a shard with him. But he couldn’t hurt her. All Hyde knew of her was that she never hurt Rilon. He couldn’t hurt her. He wouldn’t hurt her. “I’m a fracture. I’m human, but… Goddammit, how much do you know?”

The woman went to the chair and started picking up its pieces. “I won’t tell him.” He held up a piece of what could have been the arm of the chair. “He won’t know.”

Rilon muttered a curse, to which Hyde smiled and said, “Oh, I think he does.”

The woman shook her head. “Doubt it.”

She gathered the pieces of the chair in her arms, carrying them out of the apartment.

Hyde's hands were still twitching. He had contained his rage well.

“How the fuck does she know?” He dug his nails into his arm.

_I don't know. She just... Threw it all on me. She better not blabber about it, or we're done for._

Hyde stared at the ground and the grip on his arm loosened. “She better not.”

_Fracture, eh?_

“That's nothing you need to worry about. It's… personal.”

_You're me, dear Eddie. I have every right to know as you do._

“You'll just forget as soon as I let you back out. As a matter of fact…” he sneered. “I am.”

No. “That's not how it —”

Rilon fell to the floor where his chair had been. “Damn you, Hyde.”

This time, he knew that he'd been forced out. He didn't need Hyde's memories for that.

There was a sneaking suspicion in his mind, however, that Alice hadn't come on some whim, although that was a possibility.

_Asi_.

Rilon stood, pulling back his hair, although without his hair tie he could not keep it there, nor could he immediately find his glasses, which Hyde could have thrown anywhere.

He could get them later.

* * *

  
When he entered the Council room, he found the blurred figure of what appeared to be his brother sitting alone. Rilon didn't bother getting his attention when he reached the table, slumping down in his chair with a loud thud, suddenly exhausted.

He blinked, allowing for his vision to focus on his brother, who he found staring at him.

“You look tired,” Asiah said after some seconds, startling Rilon out of his trance.

Rilon narrowed his eyes at his brother, letting out a long sigh. He pinched the bridge of his nose, staring at the table. That alone seemed to convince him.

Or so he thought.

“Did you sleep after you went home, Ri?”

Rilon glared back up at him, sighing again. He felt his headache threaten to throw him into nausea once again. “Tried.”

With his head in one hand, Rilon sluggishly pulled a lock of hair behind his ear. It was bothering him, which wouldn't usually happen, but he considered that his nerves were more sensitive, contributed by his hangover.

Asiah had watched him the entire time. Worry sparked upon his face but was quickly dashed.

“I sent Alice to check on you. How did it go?”

Rilon's felt his breath catch in fear.

_So he_ did.

His suspicions had been correct.

_Does he know too?_

He hid his fear very poorly, spitting out a single word.

“Fine.”

“That doesn't help me, Rilon.” Asiah's narrowed his eyes.

“Can't you just accept that answer, or is that word not in your vocabulary?” Rilon quickly changed the subject, rather not wanting to deal with this. “Are you going to get the girls?”

“Since you look sick, Ri, but please answer my previous question more clearly.”

“That's as clear as I'm going to get.” Rilon slammed his hands on the table, his energy suddenly returning just to rebuke his brother. He had come for a simple conversation — he didn't want the mood to turn sour.

Asiah stood from the chair, speaking the words that Rilon had kept fearfully in the back of his mind.

“Then I'll ask her myself if you won’t tell me.”

Rilon stood from his chair, reaching out to catch Asiah’s arm and stopping him in his tracks. His brother didn’t protest but the look blazing in his eyes told Rilon that he wanted to.

“You're going to get the same answer from her.” Rilon let go of his brother’s arm, to which then Asiah's hand curled into a fist. He slammed it upon the table before sitting back down again.

“I could get you both run out of London for insubordination.” His breath heaved, and once again he slammed a fist upon the table before he fell back in his chair, which creaked. “But I don't, because you're my brother, and she's my bodyguard, and you know I would never do that.”

Rilon could only briefly relax at his words until his brother spoke a name that quite nearly made him jump in his seat.

“Edward Hyde. Do you know him?” Asiah folded his hands upon the table, now smiling, although Rilon could tell it was a fake smile, as it didn't meet his eyes and both sets of teeth were showing.

“N-no.” Rilon stammered “Why's that — why's that question relevant?”

“Because he took an interest in you.” Asiah shifted, resting his chin in one hand. His smile faded, although the amusement stayed in his eyes. “He asked where you had gone. Why you had left, the like.”

Internally Rilon snarled, _You asshole._

Hyde didn't reply, which only made Rilon more nervous, which forced its way out of his throat in the form of a laugh.

He caught himself before his brother could notice, trying to evade it, sputtering, “That's not — not very suspicious at all.”

Asiah leaned in, which Rilon knew was to search his gaze for answers, then back as he seemed to find nothing.

“At all?”

Rilon shook his head, ruffling his hair with a hand. He sincerely wished that he could vomit, or that some inconvenience would happen, as he needed to get out of this conversation, before — as he remembered mentioning it to himself before — it turned sour.

Yet there was no chance of that happening.

“He wasn't an acquaintance of yours?”

Again, Rilon shook his head.

“Of —”

“No.” Rilon knew the name before it even left his brother's mouth. “Not his either.”

This was turning into an interrogation. Rilon wanted to avoid that, too, before he was backed into a corner.

“Listen, I know you're still grieving over Lear and —”

“Does it look like I'm bloody grieving?” Rilon kicked the chair out from behind him and stood, leaning over the table. “Drop the subject.”

Asiah's teeth were bared. He stood as well. “This is why you should have become President. He taught your bloody everything. For all I know, all I have to be... I have to be strong. That's what I'm trying to be, but you had to come along and make it so fucking complicated.”

“For all you know, he could have made my life hell.”

“Good for you.” There was a hint of mockery in his tone that made Rilon retch. “Left you off better than me.”

He didn't say a word after that, storming out of the council room. Rilon watched him as the door shut.

He snarled a curse, making sure that Asiah could hear. “Well, maybe he did.”

* * *

Rilon dragged his chair back in toward the table and fell back in it with an exasperated sigh.

“You're tearing me apart, Hyde.” He tugged at a strand of hair, which came out and alighted upon the table. “Literally.”

_If only_… Hyde murmured, and quite longingly at that. _The only person you're tearing apart is yourself, my dear._

“The bloody hell I am.” Rilon rolled his eyes, sighing in exasperation. He stood, holding the lost strand of hair in his hand.

Not one word was spoken after that.

_Way to ruin my day._

Again, Rilon found that his trance had caused him another, yet minute, source of ruin. He had pressed down too hard upon the paper, to which the ink of his pen stained black upon it quite like blood.

Frustrated, he threw both the pen and paper upon the floor, only to stare at them. They didn’t appear to be important papers, but yet some odd pang told him that they were.

Hyde was messing with his thoughts again — he could feel the headache threatening to return.

“Can we save the depression for tomorrow?” Rilon leaned over to pick up the paper from the floor, skimming the words he could salvage from what hadn’t been ruined.

_Everyday thing, dear Arlett._

“Could you stop that?”

‘_I can't stop your depression._

“No, not that… the name-calling. That ‘dear’ thing. I don’t like it.”

Hyde laughed. _Well, too bad. My choice._

Rilon sighed but said nothing, still scanning the page. It was a bunch of medical nonsense, mainly half-remembered terms. It had some importance if Rilon absolutely had to sign it — it had been written in curling, ornate letters, by some Medical Director of the Council, a Luca Averin.

“Luca…” Rilon drew out the name, rolling it out upon his tongue. He knew the name but from where… it had escaped him. Too many names had escaped him.

Rilon picked up the pen and turned to place it and the paper upon his desk. Something seized him to shuffle through the contents of his desk, through his desk drawers and everything.

It was a photo, a small one, barely bigger than the palm of his hand. Yet, as small as it was, the details were so clear.

He turned the photo over, finding that it was dated five years previous — 2658, and was signed with the same handwriting as has been on the paper ‘_Luca Averin & Rilon Arlett’._

_This can't be the same person… This can’t be Luca._

He flipped the photo over, then back over and reread the writing, then picked up the paper of which he had been writing upon and compared them.

Five years hadn't done much justice to the handwriting — it was the same.

_It is the same._

_It_ is _Luca_.

How come you never made any mention of him before?

As Rilon studied the photo, he replied, “Because I pushed him to the back of my head before you came along.”

_Well, you pushed other things to the back of your head that I’ve found._

“I let you find those. I shoved him in the back of my mind.” He stared at the photo and his breath shuddered. “I willingly forgot him.”

_I bet if I —_

“Leave those alone.” Rilon set the photo down upon his desk and snarled.

He felt the sudden urge to tear the paper in two, but then again he’d get in trouble with his brother for that, and his brother was already quite exasperated with his actions.

He picked up the pen and quickly signed the paper and set it aside, just to stare at the photo once more.

He had been eighteen when the photo had been taken, and so had Luca, although Rilon had been exactly two months his senior.

In the photo — at least then — they had been around the same height, but yet again, Luca just falling short. The younger man had short, cropped hair and soft, effeminate features. Rilon did recall the color of his eyes — which appeared a shade of lighter gray within the photo — and how unnatural of a blue they had been, almost like ice.

Like… _Hyde's_.

Rilon shook off the thought. _No_.

He picked up the paper again, in his free hand, rereading Luca's signature.

Medical Director.

Council Medical Director.

How strange it was that he'd made it this far.

Yet Rilon hadn't seen him at the last meeting.

“Must be new, then.” He muttered.

Hyde — who must've taken Rilon's distraction to his advantage — now seemed to understand.

_Did you shove him back that far because… oh... Did you… did you like him?_

“No.” Rilon slammed the photo upon the desk. “I've no time for foolish romance.”

Hyde was laughing now, much to Rilon's distress.

“I did not — dear God, Edward, shut up.”

Hyde died down, but Rilon could still hear him wheezing.

_You… with someone. That's…_ absurd.

“I'd be glad to point out someone for you, Edward.”

That got him to shut up. Rilon smiled, mostly to himself.

“Ah, don't worry about it. As I've said before, romance is just some weird lie, some construct that some people feel and some do not.” Rilon tugged at his shirt collar. “And I do not. I may have had my little phases of… bi-curiosity, but that's gone now.”

He folded up the paper. “Luca is just another person I've shoved in the back of my mind. I've left the memory to rot away and be forgotten.”

Could you stop the monologue and just get to what you were doing?

“Yes, right.” Rilon stood from his chair and headed to the door.

He didn't expect for someone to be waiting there, jumping at the figure standing before the door.

“Alice.” He paid more attention to the paper than her.

“I came to check on you.”

Rilon shoved past her into the hall, shutting the door behind him. He unfolded the paper and pretended to read it. “Come to peer into my brain again, Miss Aviet? I’m not interested.”

Alice followed behind him as he began to stride behind him as he paced down the hallway. Rilon knew that she wasn’t looking over his shoulder — she’d rather read his reaction from it in his mind than read it.

Rilon banished his thoughts and feelings to the back of his mind. She couldn’t read them then.

Unfortunately, Alice wasn’t deterred, and Rilon paused, turning around to face her. “Could you please leave me alone?” He growled, taking the paper away from his face. “I have enough on my mind, and I don’t need you rifling through my thoughts like they’re… file folders.”

Alice backed off, but when Rilon began walking again, he could hear her footsteps still trailing after him, although farther behind.

Finally, Rilon drew out a sigh, paused, then turned to face her. He held up the paper. “Do you know where I’d take this?”

Alice shot him a brief glare, shaking her head likely out of exasperation. “Sixth floor. Council offices.” She peered closer at the paper; Rilon knew that she was noting the particularly large ink stain near Rilon’s name. “Dissociative trance, dear Doctor?”

Rilon swiftly folded the paper, snarled, but said nothing. He turned back around, waving his hand to dismiss her, and this time, she listened, padding off in the opposite direction.

_Way to get into my head, Alice._ Hyde muttered — Rilon could picture him sneering in barely contained rage. _Going to Institution is the last thing I need…_

He paused, and so did Rilon; he knew that his alter was going to add something.

_Bitch_.

Rilon nearly snickered but restrained himself, shaking his head.

* * *

He read and reread the paper as he walked down the stairs.

What a weird thing it was, finding his and Luca’s name upon the same document for the first time in years.

Rilon paused on the stairwell, looking down upon the sixth floor.

_I’m not going to like this…_

He nearly fell down the steps, encountering several burning stares as he attempted to break his fall. He returned them all with an equally burning glare, straightening his posture and brushing himself off.

Those who had been staring at him hurried away; Rilon realized only then that he had forgotten to ask them where Luca was.

Much to his annoyance he held the paper to his face to scan for an address but was even more frustrated to see that there was none upon the paper, or perhaps, there had been, but if it had been upon the paper, it must have been the ink-ruined spot to where he could not read.

“Oh, you blasted thing.” He folded the paper once more, but carefully as to not tear it.

He had stared at it so many times that he’d feared that he had worn it down enough to tear it.

Could you put your address in a more obvious place, somewhere I won’t ruin it in some dissociative trance?

Rilon shook his head, staring down the long hallway. It reminded him of a mix between the President’s hall and the common Tower hall, dim yet expansive.

A door shut in the distance, around thirty feet away and to his right. A tall man in gray robes was staring down at papers, shuffling through them, sorting them as though by order of importance. Rilon’s breath caught, and he hid his face behind the paper as though that would hide him.

_Luca_?

The man was muttering to himself, incomprehensible words that Rilon could not pick out easily.

Rilon steadied his breath and began walking slowly towards him to confirm his identity.

The footsteps paused, but Rilon did not. He miscalculated, swerving to avoid the man a little too late. It was only then that he was quite nearly shoved away by the man, who then immediately dropped his papers, spitting a curse under his breath.

“Does nobody watch where they go anymore?”

Both men bent down to pick up the papers, which then Rilon held out the paper he had signed and met the other's gaze.

He nearly leaped back.

It _was_ Luca.

“Oh, Lord Almighty.” Luca was the one who leaped back, scattering the papers even further. “It's you.”

Hyde reacted for the first time in a long while.

_Mother of Christ that's my voice. Why the hell is that —_

_Shut up._

“Brought you something.” Rilon waved the paper to get his attention.

Luca quickly gathered the papers from the floor, holding the mess in his arms. He appeared to have no room left for any others, and even further, he wasn't organizing them more.

“Um, well…” Luca was cold and stiff despite his words. “Give me... quick moment.”

When he turned back to head toward what Rilon presumed was his office, Hyde spoke again.

_He has my voice. Rilon how is that possible? That can't be possible_.

Rilon couldn’t doubt what Hyde was telling him — the voice nagging him in his mind constantly… day and night, he would rather say, had a similar, if not the same voice as the man who had just spoken to him, the only exception being that Luca spoke with a rather more Eastern accent, where he would often miss the more simplistic words and would roll his ‘r’ more often than Rilon would care to list off.

Similar.

He could understand why Hyde would never be able to find Rilon’s memories of Luca. He, in a sense, was Luca, or at greatest, just some manifestation of him.

“You had paper?” Luca had returned while Rilon had been lost in thought, startling him. He nearly dropped the paper but handed it to him easily when Luca prompted him again.

He unfolded it carefully, scanning it over once or twice before showing it to Rilon, pointing at the inkblot in the corner of the page. “You made this?”

“Accident.” Rilon stared at the floor.

“You don’t look at me.” Luca’s voice grew colder. “Can’t you look at me?”

Rilon slowly lifted his gaze, meeting the unnatural blue gaze. “I can look at you. It’s just —”

“University.” Luca interrupted, folding up the paper and placing it in his pocket. “I get it.”

“Then I hope you understand.”

“Forgot it.” Luca turned again to head back to his office, then back. “Actually, I don't understand.”

“What don't you understand?” Rilon tilted his head and frowned. “Everything?”

Luca drew out an audible sigh. “Arlett…”

Dismissively, Rilon waved him off. He turned and passed away from him, back toward the stairwell. “Five years, Luca. Do you understand what happened?”

“I — I'm sorry for Lear.”

Rilon turned back around, repeating his question. “Try again, Luca.”

“I don’t know what I should say, Arlett.” Luca shrugged. “I thought you were coming here to just give me paper and go on your way.”

You can’t let go of the past, can you, Arlett?

_I don’t need two of you nagging me._

“Well, I was…” Rilon backtracked his thoughts. “But… It’s you.”

“It’s me.” Luca echoed, shaking his head helplessly.“I'm stuck in Tower like you. ”

“Well, it's not like I have a choice, Luca.”

“Nor do I.” He waved his hand about with a sour look upon his face. “Listen, I don't have time for petty argument. Could I get back to work?”

“Yes,” Rilon muttered coldly; he, too, waved his hand, but rather to dismiss any further words Luca might have said. “Go back to… whatever the hell you were doing.”

Luca sneered but said nothing. He turned back down the hall, grabbing the paper out of his pocket as he opened the door to his office.

Rilon turned back to the stairwell. A pang of regret hit him.

He might have well just said something, but it was too late now. Luca had long since disappeared into his office — there was nobody in the long hall when he turned back.

Again he shook his head, turning back to the stairwell, dashing back up them before he could say anything he would regret.


	21. Chapter Twenty

He never liked it when that day came, the day when his body automatically shut down any attempts of productivity, left him in a feverish trance. Unfortunately, the combination of the two over the preceding years had led to him giving up entirely and never leaving his bed the entire day.

“Good afternoon, sleepyhead.”

Rilon didn’t open his eyes — he knew who it was.

“Don’t disturb my sleep, Asi.”

“I wasn’t planning on it.”

Rilon felt the bed shift as Asiah sat, and he turned away from the window to face him.

“That includes sitting on my bed.”

“Right,” Asiah immediately rose, and the weight upon the bed lightened.

Rilon drew the covers over his head. “Where are the girls?”

“I left them with Alice.”

_Alice, Alice, Alice…_ Rilon echoed in his mind, sighing loudly. He pulled the covers back down and opened his eyes to stare at his brother. “Why Alice?”

“Don’t you trust her?”

Rilon turned over, gazing out the window. It was moments of agitated silence that passed before he spoke again.

“Yes.”

Asiah’s footsteps padded approached the foot of the bed — Rilon’s dresser. There then came the sound of drawers opening as his brother went to find clothes for him.

“Where are your glasses?”

“Where they are usually,” Rilon groaned. “Bathroom.”

Asiah’s footsteps retreated away from the dresser. Rilon let out a sigh and rose, sitting in bed.

_This is the most productive I’m going to be today._

A few moments of staring at the now-closed bathroom door only heightened Rilon’s annoyance.

“Can’t you find them?” He called.

“Not in here.” Asiah snarled in frustration.

“Try my desk, then.”

Asiah hurried out of the bathroom, stumbling in an almost comical fashion. Rilon laughed at this.

“Well, I'm sorry, Rilon. Would you rather fetch your glasses?”

Rilon held back his laugh, shaking his head. Asiah echoed him, stumbling through the doorway. Multiple crashes followed — to which Rilon flinched at each time — but when Asiah returned he held both Rilon's glasses and a hair tie.

“Hairbrush.” His eyes narrowed.

“Dresser… bottom drawer.”

Asiah let out a frustrated sigh, hurrying back to the dresser, where he set the objects that he'd been holding upon it and rifling through the drawers once more.

There was a small squeal of surprise from his brother, who then slammed the drawer.

Rilon leaped in surprise.

“Find it?” He slumped back onto the bed, not finding the strength to sit up any longer.

Asiah must have been holding it up, for he affirmed his statement with, “Yeah.” he said. “Now sit up, so I can fix your hair.”

With a groan, Rilon sat back up but slumped forward to stare at the bed. He tousled his hair, making his bed head worse than it had already been.

Asiah sat before him on the bed, much to his annoyance. Yet Rilon couldn’t protest if his brother had offered to do his hair.

He lifted his head as Asiah turned to pick up his glasses from the dresser.

Asiah unfolded them but set them upon his own face. “How do I look?” He snickered.

Rilon couldn’t admit it aloud, but his brother did look pretty comical wearing his glasses, as he himself looked comical without them.

He poked at Asiah’s nose, removing the glasses from his face and putting them on his own. Instantly, his vision adjusted, and Asiah became less of a blur.

“Like a fool,” Rilon added seconds later. “A big idiot. The greatest idiot of all time.”

“Says the one who’s still in his pajamas at two in the afternoon.”

Rilon shrugged, pulling a face. He said nothing; nevertheless, his brother saw all the answers from what flashed in his eyes moments afterward.

“So...” He drew out the word. “Alice told me about yesterday.”

Rilon felt his breath catch.

“I... hadn't realized that you were sick... from the party.”

“I guess my tangled hair and missing glasses told you nothing?” Rilon muttered.

Asiah didn't seem to hear him. “So I'm genuinely sorry about what happened.”

“Genuinely?” Rilon echoed, adjusting his glasses.

“Genuinely.” Asiah twirled the hairbrush about in his hand. “Now let ‘the greatest idiot of all time’ brush your hair.”

“Just warning you,” Rilon fell over the side of the bed as Asiah stood from it. “It's going to become more tangled when I go back to bed.”

“Can't you just sit up like a normal person?” Asiah sat on the floor before Rilon. “It makes your hair easier to brush.”

Rilon shook his head, to which Asiah glowered at him.

“Isn't hanging upside down the worst thing to do when you're sick?”

“Would you stop interrogating me and do some actual hair brushing?”

“I'm convinced that you're not genuinely sick.”

“I am,” Rilon said. “Hairbrush.”

Asiah scowled. He pulled at a thick strand of Rilon’s hair and yanked the hairbrush through it.

Then he hesitated, still scowling, then sighed as though trying to cover up his already-clear agitation. “Rilon, sit up. You’re not a child.”

Rilon smiled. “So what if I am?”

Asiah’s scowl deepened. He cleared his throat, startling Rilon, who abruptly sat back up on the bed.

“You know,” Asiah said, sitting behind him, now combing his fingers through Rilon’s hair. “I can agree with you.”

He tapped Rilon’s shoulder with the hairbrush, which startled him and made his breath catch again.

“Don’t do that. Please.” Rilon avoided the question that he knew he had been prompted into answering. “I don’t like the whole sudden touching thing.”

“Right.” Asiah fell silent, and Rilon heard him drop the hairbrush to the floor. Rilon said nothing about it but visibly protested when his brother continued to run his hands through his hair.

“Just… just get the hairbrush.”

Asiah bent down to pick up the hairbrush, heaving another sigh in exasperation. This time, he was careful with Rilon’s hair, silent as if to not disturb or offend him in any way, although Rilon suspected it was more of a ‘hidden anger’ thing than anything.

Finally, Asiah sighed and stood from the bed, walking from there to the dresser in relative silence. He retrieved the hair tie from it, then returned to the bed, where he quickly tied up Rilon’s hair. Once he was done, he sighed to give Rilon a cue, then stood again.

“Happy?” Exasperation was still quite apparent in his voice.

Rilon mocked his expression but nodded. “Quite,” he muttered. “Oh, are you still mad at me?”

Asiah shook his head, but the lie was clear. However, he said nothing to help frame his lie, as if he wanted Rilon to see through it — Rilon couldn’t exactly tell as he usually did, even though he searched his gaze over and over again, growing frustrated at what he could not find rather than what he could.

He knew who was doing this. There would be time for rebuking later.

Rilon stared down at his lap, playing with the frills of his nightgown sleeve. The crimson all too well reminded him of blood as usual. This was the day he'd rather not wear it, as though the memories were amplified for just one day.

Briefly, he questioned himself on the color choice of the nightgown, then groaned.

_Why crimson?_

He fell back, taking off his glasses and closing his eyes.

Seconds later, Asiah, having grown bored, left the room, and then the apartment.

Rilon drew the covers over him and turned to stare out the window. He noticed then that it had begun to snow, and snow heavily.

“Fourteen years and snow manages to be on time once again.”

He tapped at his forehead when Hyde didn't immediately reply. “You in there?”

_Unfortunately…_ Hyde muttered. _It's so… depressing in here._

“Depressing…” The word rolled off Rilon's tongue as flatly as the word described it. He didn't say anything more, but removed his glasses and set them aside on the bed; he sat up, reaching up to pull his hair down, but stopping himself mid-gesture, then lowering his hand back to the bed. “Depressing…”

The snow began to patter lightly against the window as Rilon fell back again, unable to find the strength to even move.

Hyde began droning on about something or other, but Rilon had no attention span to listen. The reminder he had about rebuking him soon fell to the back of his mind. He had not the strength to do that, either.

_You do know what I mean, don’t you?_

Rilon did not reply. He could admit that he had never been paying attention to the droning but chose to rather not respond. He didn’t know half of the story that had been told to him but didn’t bother to ask for a repeat.

_Arlett._

Rilon closed his eyes, smiling. A weak chuckle escaped from his mouth a moment later, which prompted a quick-tempered outburst from Hyde.

_**Arlett**. You’re doing this out of spite, aren’t you?_

Rilon shook his head, turning over to watch the snowfall. “Maybe I am. I thought you made a promise to leave me alone.”

_I- I did, but —_

“And you will honor that promise and let me sleep, correct?”

There was a pause. Rilon expected a ‘no’ as, well, it was Hyde.

Then his alter groaned out a noisy, _Fine._

Rilon shut his eyes, settling himself into bed. He took his glasses from beside them and put them on, staring at the ceiling.

If this was how his year was going to start, he figured that it may as well be ended in the same way: lying in his bed, lost in thought and depressed. That was all he seemed to feel all the time nowadays. There was no room or any normality, but rather abnormality. Just nearly a decade and a half of absolute shit.

Briefly, he held his breath, then letting it escape from his nose. He started counting backward from one hundred — in his first language at that — to bore him to sleep but found that it was a rather childish technique by the time he had hit sixty-four, and so he stopped there.

_Why that number?_

He could not physically push himself to count backward. Frustrated, he sat up in bed and reached up to pull out his hair once more, but, like the time before, hesitated, then set his hand back down upon the bed.

He fixed his glasses and turned to face the window again.

The whole city was practically covered in a blanket of white, a frozen mix of grief against Rilon’s cold heart.

It was too cold for rain. The sky wouldn’t cry — it couldn’t cry.

Rilon stood from his bed and stumbled toward the window. It became his only brace as he fell to the floor. When he pressed his face to the glass he paid more attention to the way his breath fogged upon in, rather than the blanketed London far below.

The impulse came to him worse than anything else. With a loud, unearthly wail, he pounded his fists against the window, hearing only the ring of shattering glass distantly in his ears.

He didn’t even budge as the snow blew in, the burning cold against his skin. He couldn’t find the strength to get back to his feet, to drag himself back into his bed.

Where had Hyde retreated to in all this? Had the despair of his mind made his alter retreat to the unreachable depth of his subconsciousness? Was he silent for a reason?

Rilon’s breath caught in his throat.

Was he… planning something?

Shaking, Rilon stared down at his hands, staring at the shattered glass and crimson blood of his palms.

_My fault._

The thought flashed in his head but was gone before he could grasp it. He shook his head to clear his mind but found that it was never cluttered in the first place.

Quickly he shuffled back to a part of the window that hadn't been broken, curling up beside the crystalline glass and now shivering against the cold.

Someone was going to notice, whether it had been his wail or the shattering of glass.

Or he was going to be discovered with blood on his hands and shards upon his knuckles, the clearest sign of how it had made contact with the glass.

Rilon pulled the collar of his nightgown over his nose, although he knew that it wouldn't shield his face from the cold. His shivering grew worse as he pressed his body against the cold window. It felt safer than anything else, and even the warmth of his bed could not comfort him in his depressive state.

Only the sound of light, pattering footsteps was enough to frighten him out of the trance. He knew that it was one of the girls before he even turned his head. They couldn’t be at school, as it was the weekend, and from the snow outside, they were likely going to have a longer weekend than just those two days.

Rilon shrunk beside the window, knowing that he would look like an insolent child just sitting there helplessly. Oh, how some days he longed to be normal.

After his long silence, he finally managed to force out a hoarse, “Heard me, didn’t you?”

He quickly hid his hands in the sleeves of his robes, but it was clear that his daughter had already seen.

“No,” She — Frigga — gave no sight of seeing despite the tone of her voice. “I came to talk about something else.”

Rilon disregarded his own well being and turned his full attention on his daughter, even though he felt as though he was freezing to death and his hands stung like hell. “Is there… is there something wrong, Frigga?”

She sat on the bed before him and dusted off a few stray flakes of snow. She stared at her hands, fiddling with her fingers, avoiding Rilon’s gaze entirely. “So you know how Jackie and I were talking a few months back, right?”

Rilon recalled the stairwell chat and nodded.

“I was thinking… that maybe I could be… how should I phrase this?” Her breath shuddered, but Rilon waited for her patiently despite this. “I don’t feel like… I’m not… I’m not a girl. I haven’t felt like it since I was on that ship.”

Rilon's head fell. “So... The whole time I've been wrong?”

“It's fine,” Frigga said, now staring directly at him. “You didn't know.”

Frigga laughed, but it was a laugh that didn't spare them both the sake of embarrassment, nor for it reassure them.

“So I guess… you could call me your son… God, forgive me… call me Luca.”

Rilon startled at the name, the heat immediately flooding back into his body. “Luca… Luca. Did you find that in my journal?”

“Jackie did.”

“Was that why she —” Rilon’s hands flew to his mouth. “That little twit.”

_Of course..._ That was why she had been going through his desk. She had been doing this for her sis — brother.

_Do we need another Luca? There's one already and if I recall, you hate him._

Rilon ignored him.

_Good morning, Edward._

_You punched a window._

_I don't need reminding._

_You punched… a window._

_Can I have a normal conversation with my son without you being a smartass?_

Hyde snorted, but fell silent, allowing Rilon to speak once more.

“So Jackie found the name in my journal…” He nearly stammered but managed to collect himself, sitting up against the window. “Did she say that she found anything else?”

Luca shook his head. “She didn't say anything, no.” He said. “Is there a reason?”

“No.” Rilon was searching his gaze — he wasn't lying.

Luca stood from the bed after a few uncomfortable moments of silence and stole a glimpse at the window. “Would you… like me to tell your brother… about the window?”

“If you can make up a valid excuse, then yes.” Rilon offered him a weak smile, then stared down at his lap. “But it’s still quite likely he won’t believe it either way.”

Without another word, Luca smiled back at him and left the bedroom.”

Rilon unhid his hand from his sleeves and stared at them. They had become red, not only with his blood but from it all rushing to them. He managed to pick a few small shards from his fingers before completely giving up.

He smiled humorlessly. “I guess I did punch a window.”

* * *

He didn't know how long he'd lingered there, shivering against the drastic temperature drop, but he rose when the sky spilled muted crimson red upon the room. Nobody had come to check on him, not even his brother, who had been promised by Luca to return to his rooms.

However, it had grown colder, with suspicions of his own that the snow would become a blizzard during the night, and Rilon wasn’t risking any of that frostbite nonsense. He would rather die from a failed anxiety attack than anything.

He knew that he couldn’t risk hypothermia either, fearing the moment when he’d stop shivering and grow worse. Death wasn’t a thing he wanted on his mind at the current moment. Six years was his promise.

Yet, if he sat here rebuking himself like an idiot, death would be a foreseeable thing.

What had taken his son so long? Had he forgotten, or did he just not care?

Again he stared at his hands, at the little flecks of dried blood and glass, feeling the strong pang of pain as pierced his heart. He raised his hands to his head and tore at his hair. The urge to scream was too high, but he bit it back, bit his tongue so hard that he tasted blood.

A door slammed, startling Rilon. There were loud curses followed by unintelligible muttering.

He knew that voice but denied who it was until they rushed into the bedroom.

Rilon let go of his tongue, covering his mouth. What disgusted him was when the blood began drooling out of it into his hand.

“_O Bozhe…_” It was a common Eastern curse Rilon only recognized in one person. “Could you not ruin your life for one day?”

“I look like shit, I know,” Rilon muttered, muffled behind his hand. He narrowed his eyes. “Luca.”

“You look like -”

Rilon held out his hand, interrupting him. “If you call me that one more time, Luca, I swear to God I will get up and slap you.”

Luca finished, ignoring him, smiling with amusement, an amusement that Rilon had never seen before. “_P'yanitsa_.”

Rilon didn’t know the language, but the word was clear.

_Drunkard._

Although the nickname stung, Rilon spat out an equally harsh, “_Dummkopf_.”

Luca barely flinched, slowly paced toward him then knelt before him, although a fair distance away. “Either you be a proper doctor and clean up blood yourself, or,” He took a cloth out of his robe’s breast pocket. “Let me.”

Rilon held out his hands, which stung from the small cuts. “I’d rather be helpless.”

“You are not University student, Rilon.” Luca’s eyes narrowed. He held out the cloth insistently. “You are an adult and should be taking care of yourself.”

“You gave me a choice, Luca.”

Luca muttered an exasperated curse under his breath; he dropped into a sitting position, also dropping the cloth to the floor. He said nothing, but stared at Rilon, his cold, unnatural gaze staring into him, burning through his skull.

Then, after some minutes, he picked up the cloth but hesitated, looking him over. “I guess some people never change.”

Rilon flinched away from. The urge to take the cloth from Luca's hands was not there, but yet he wanted to reach out and take it from him in a distressed panic.

Thankfully, such distress had been too great upon both him and Hyde; no change would be apparent before Luca.

“You still have a choice, Ri.” Luca held out the cloth to offer him it, but still, Rilon shook his head. “I know what you're like. I know this is a hard day for you.”

After another minute of exasperated silence, Luca sighed again. “Fine, just tell me when it's too much, alright?”

Hesitantly, he took Rilon’s hands in his, dusting off the more deeply embedded shards with a thinly veiled air of frustration. He was more hesitant when wiping the blood away from Rilon’s mouth, as if catching that Rilon had been carefully staring at him, watching him with curiosity.

“Be more careful when biting your tongue, Ri. Or at least try not to scream.”

_That’s kind of impossible._ Rilon held the remark back on his tongue, but smiled at the thought, anyway.

Luca moved away, staring at the bloodstained cloth in his hand. “You’re lucky you didn’t cut your face as well… I don’t think you’d approve.” The air of hesitation was still quite apparent as he stared at Rilon. “You told me ‘Do not feel sorry for Lear.’ Did you not mean to say that, or -”

“I meant to,” Rilon held his hands close to his body, still shivering.

“Is there reason?”

“Just don’t. Find out and you’ll hate him as much as I do.”

“I’m guessing he is…” Luca appeared to search for the right word. It didn’t appear to come to his vocabulary easily. “What is that word… zlo. You know what, forget it.”

“Evil.” Rilon interrupted, struggling to his feet, using the window as a brace. “He’s an evil, worthless, bitch.”

Luca went to help him but Rilon held out his hand.

“Alright, _p'yanitsa_, as you wish.” He crossed his arms but startled as Rilon snarled at him.

“Do not call me that.”

“Right.” Luca indicated the window with a nod of his head. “Did you tell your brother about that window?”

“I sent…” Rilon hesitated, his son’s name on his tongue. “Other Luca to fetch him… but it seems as though he forgot.”

Luca raised an eyebrow in amusement, but said nothing, although his eyes said every thought he had.

Rilon stared at the window just as Luca had done, but scowled, a foil of Luca’s emotions.

_I can’t sleep in here._

He was lost in thought, scanning his brain for potential places to stay, when Luca interrupted his trance.

“Um… Arlett, you…”

Rilon wiped at his mouth with a sleeve, knowing what Luca had indicated. He was still bleeding from his bitten tongue; he supposed that when he had access to water, he would use that to soothe his tongue. Right now he could worry about more important things, such as finding a place to stay.

_Penthouse?_ Hyde spoke again, his tone laced with bitterness toward Luca. _Does he have to be here?_

Rilon ignored him, tapping his fingers on the cold window behind him, the freezing which still sunk through his skin and into his bones, making his shivers grow worse by each passing minute. It was stupid, he knew, but it was the only thing keeping him calm and from screaming.

Still, his anxiety prompted a change, forcing him off the window to run past a now-startled Luca into the bathroom. He locked the door behind him, his breath heaving.

He braced himself upon the sink and gazed into the mirror. He swiftly pulled his hair down, tugging it out, where it promptly ruffled itself into intricate tangles.

“Oh, dear God, this can’t be right.” His voice was a hoarse whisper — he couldn't risk Luca hearing the voice change, how similar Hyde's was to his. “This can't be right.”

By now, Rilon had already slipped away, leaving Hyde as the only one present.

Until Rilon wanted to be out again, which wasn't likely for quite a while, Hyde was trapped here.

He pulled the glasses off of his face and set them on the sink, snarling a curse.

Footsteps paced outside, slow and prowling like a cat cornering its prey.

Hyde knew that he was cornered… He was the prey. He was supposed to be on the other side, the cat, and the figure was his prey.

He cursed another time under his breath. He couldn't leave, nor could he speak. This was like the mind space, where he was trapped and never actually spoke aloud but rather had the illusion of speech.

Except now he had a physical form, had feelings, had his own fears.

“_Dammit_.” The word was flat, quiet upon his tongue, as were the next, many curses.

_Don’t panic._

He now felt like Rilon. Helpless. Unable to speak although he wanted to.

What did I do with Lear? He cleared his throat, testing his voice, smiling when the tone even remotely matched Rilon’s.

“I’ll be… out in a moment. Just…” The anxiety rose in his voice, or rather, Rilon’s. “Trying to gather… shit.”

Quietly, a man’s voice, his echo, replied, “Alright.”

_Do that trick again and I kill you. You’re making me nauseous._

_Like hearing the sound of your own voice for once, dear Arlett?_

_Don’t get soft on me._

_Oh, I’m not. How the fuck do I let you out?_

_What did you do last time?_

Hyde shut his eyes, refusing to reply. He braced himself against the sink, his head down. He had the impulse to scream but fought against it, though desperately so. There was no risking Luca hearing him, not now, after it was clearly Rilon he had seen enter the bathroom, and a strange man leaving would only prompt questions that Hyde could not care to answer.

_Too distressed, dear Arlett?_ Hyde smiled, mostly to himself. He shut his eyes again and sucked in a breath through his nose. _Save it. You'll need it in the future._

He hadn't expected Rilon to reply, and he didn't, anyway.

Hyde tapped at the sink, smiling at the mirror. “Take my advice before you forget it.”

He took the glasses from the sink and put them on.

He stumbled away from the sink as ringing shot its way into his ears.

Another strange dream flashed before his eyes before disappearing, carted away to someplace in his memory that he'd never be able to access.

_Take my advice before you forget it._ From the ringing came Hyde's voice, clear as a bell. _You'll need it in the future._

Before he could question it, there was a knock at the door.

“Are you alright in there, Arlett?”

Rilon quickly fixed up his hair. “Yes, fine.” He said.

He rebuked his reflection, telling himself to get it together. He couldn't risk another thing like that. He couldn't risk anything like that.

“Who are you yelling at?”

“Nobody…” The word was shaky, a poorly executed lie. “Just myself.”

From outside, Luca sighed in exasperation. “Just get out here.”

Rilon unlocked the door, leaving the room.

Luca was now on the bed, investigating the window. He said nothing — he must have not noticed.

Rilon shut the door, and Luca startled. Still, the man said nothing, nor did he acknowledge Rilon. His entire fixation was on the window.

“Want me to leave you alone?”

The man didn't look at him, but stood from the bed and walked to the window, pressing a hand to it. It fogged up around it.

“You're lucky,” he said. “You didn't freeze.”

Rilon pulled a face. “Alright…?”

“A normal man would have frozen in minutes, died even, but you…” Luca faltered. “You’re fine.”

“I’m not human, then.” Rilon snarled sarcastically, crossing his arms. The face he had pulled only grew more severe.

Luca stared at him, looking as though he believed him. He removed his hand from the window and turned to face Rilon. The window retained its fog along with a hand-shaped imprint. “Your family isn’t fully human, Arlett. I read history books. The first of your generation was -”

“That information isn’t needed right now, thank you.”

Luca’s eyes narrowed.

_Remember what I said, Edward,_ Rilon spat internally.

_What..? Can’t I just have a little bit of fun?_

_Your idea of ‘fun’ is pissing me off._

“That was… sorely unneeded.” Rilon added, correcting himself, or rather apologizing for Hyde’s rude remark. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.” There was no emotion in Luca’s voice — Rilon couldn’t tell what exactly was on his mind, which frustrated him. The man could have been sorry himself, or annoyed, irritated, maybe hiding behind a thin veil of rage. The equation was too complex for Rilon to solve at a moment’s notice.

So he said nothing.

Then appearing tense, Luca fixed the collar of his robe, clearing his throat. “I should get back before they get suspicious.”

The thought flashed in Rilon’s mind, and this time, he caught it. “Do you happen to know… of any places to stay?”

Luca pointed at the ceiling. “Penthouse. Nobody lives there.”

He spared not a glance at Rilon as he left the bedroom and shut the door. There was a small click, followed by a distant chuckle. From behind the door, Luca’s voice rose in amusement. “_Dobroy nochi, p'yanitsa_.”

Rilon scowled.


	22. Chapter Twenty-One

Summer came early. There had been only a week or so of spring in March before they were flung into temperatures that were considered sweltering.

Most nights, Rilon preferred sleeping in the lobby over his room, and often brought his journal and a pen with him for the nights he could not sleep, either noting the muted sounds of the vast place at night or sketching the first few people that came in the early morning.

On the first cool night, around mid-June, he did sleep in his room, staring for a few hours at the now-replaced window before he grew too drowsy to stay completely awake.

He wondered what Hyde did on the occasional nights when he did sleep, drifting off into the warmth and safety of the mind space. It was something or other with Alva or Ottawa, venturing upstairs, or just petty tricks on the bodyguards.

The irony is that they didn’t know that they were being teased by a murderer.

Nothing had happened that was worth noting besides that.

On the next cooler night, somewhere near the solstice, three or four days perhaps, Rilon didn’t sleep. He spent the night fighting against Hyde’s escapades by busying himself with whatever he could, including writing in his journal.

The compulsion came instantly to draw instead. Rilon sat on his bed, using only the midnight moonlight and a small candle to illuminate his journal, which was open to a blank page. He was sketching furiously, against his own will. The person he was drawing took the shape of a woman’s face, with long, flowing hair. When he drew her eyes, he felt like he was forgetting something. He sprang from his bed and ran to his desk in the main room.

He was a madman, pulling out drawer after drawer of what was nothing to him.

Finally, amongst the mess, he pulled out a smaller pen in triumph.

This time, he was much slower returning to his room. He sat on his bed more carefully, replacing the previous pen in his hand with the new one, sketching the drawing’s eyes with careful detail, but thinly hidden frustration and impatience.

Finally, he set the journal down and stared at the compulsively done drawing. He instantly knew who he had done but why he had done, was something that had not come to him.

_Mother of God._

He reeled back.

The ink of the woman's eyes matched that of his own. Rilon never knew anyone that had those color of eyes besides one person.

His mother.

Rilon picked up the journal and slammed it shut. Perhaps he had been too tired. Perhaps he had made a mistake. Perhaps he was dreaming…

Or, perhaps this was his mind's doing.

He threw the journal and pens toward the foot of his bed and ran his hands through his hair.

The time.

He needed to check the time.

It was still dark, but it had been so for hours. It could be midnight, or it could be five in the morning.

What was the time?

Had he dated the last journal entry?

Rilon bent over and picked up the journal from the foot of the bed, flipping to the latest pages. The latest entry had been signed by him and had been dated hours ago

_ **‘20:08’** _

He stared out the window, dropping the journal in his lap. It couldn’t have been later than midnight if it was dated that early. All he recalled doing was writing and that compulsive sketch.

Rilon stood from the bed, sighing. He took the candle from his bedside and blew it out with an abrupt whoosh of breath.

He couldn’t be in his room anymore. It was too much, too overwhelming. He just needed to… get out somehow.

Get out.

That had been his cue, shoving Rilon back into his mind and taking over for him.

He needed to change. Rilon had been wearing these clothes for days on end and it wasn’t helping with the heat.

He went to the end of the bed, pulling out a drawer from the dresser, and swiftly rifling through them.

_Does this man wear anything other than black?_

Nearly five years of it and Hyde needed a change. Some change to distinguish himself from his other side, to be more inconspicuous amongst people, almost as he had been at that party.

He went to the bottom drawer, which he knew from searching Rilon’s memories that it was his lesser-worn clothing.

And of course, he never wore them in such a long while. Here, there was every color in a muted rainbow, but for Rilon’s usual black. Each of the outfits couldn’t have been more than five or six years old, from the mix of memories and personal experiences, the disgust that Rilon had felt in partaking in something that he abhorred just to maintain his personal image.

Hyde found one that was similar in material and appearance to his current outfit, only of a mix of muted red and black. He ditched the coat of the outfit and went to the bathroom to change.

There was no time for vanity afterward. He abandoned the glasses and hair tie he’d been wearing upon Rilon’s dresser. He could fill his alter in later if he didn’t find out before that.

Which the latter was more likely.

Quietly, he picked up the journal he knew that Rilon had left at the foot of the bed, flipping through it until he reached the last written page.

He dropped the journal upon the bed, covering the grimace of pain that escaped from his mouth although nobody was there to see it.

Why did he make Rilon do this? It seemed so good at the time, but now it only made unwanted memories flash through his brain.

_Stop it._ He slapped himself._ Get it together._

He clenched his hands upon the blanket. _You need to fucking stop it. Stop it, Edward._

He left the bed, shoving down his anger.

In the main room, he searched frantically through Rilon's cabinets, knowing that he'd hidden something there for later.

Triumphantly, he chuckled to himself when he did find it, or rather, more than one.

Shards he had collected and managed to salvage from the previous mirror.

He took out one that was small, no larger than the average dinner cutlery. On its own, it wouldn't be lethal unless used correctly, but helped by something else, something, in particular, would make it as lethal as any other.

Hyde went through another cabinet, lucky that he'd been guided by Rilon's memories.

This time, he was silent when he pulled out the next thing he needed — the familiar vial, containing that familiar red liquid that had assisted in his creation, that had fractured him away from the depths of Rilon's subconscious mind.

From his experiments, he knew that it only worked on a person of his particular blood — the petty royalty that the Arlett family had somehow entangled themselves into. It was lethal to anyone else.

It was with a particular regret that he recalled the death of Nylan, which had occurred after a tragic expense to Rilon. Hyde knew how it pained Rilon to lose someone after the death of his mother, to a place beyond mental anguish, an anguish that caused Hyde to flinch away before he could feel it himself.

He held the vial tightly within his hand, grimacing. Like Rilon, he had that overwhelming urge to throw it against the nearest thing, for it to shatter and never exist again.

Still, he stopped himself, reminding himself that it wouldn't work without it, bracing himself against the counter with another poorly hidden grimace.

It has to work, he then reminded himself, now clenching the mirror shard so tightly in his hand as to make it bleed.

_The President won't notice. He won't suspect a thing._

Hyde smiled, adding a thought, a reminder to himself.

_Dear Arlett won’t have an alibi for this._

Hyde moved away from the countertop and headed toward the door, hiding the vial in his vest pocket but keeping the shard close to him.

* * *

The stairwells felt much safer. Here, Hyde could cling to the stairwell bar, ready to fall upon a moment's notice. From his current height, he quickly deduced that he could be able to fall without killing himself in the process, but it would be quite hard to get away as he did have the greatest risk of injury from it.

Multiple times, he forced his breath into near-silence when the panic became ham to creep upon him. He hesitated on the stairwell, which he couldn't easily deduce what floor he was on from the darkness.

There was the overwhelming urge that he was being followed.

He whirled around, flashing the shard before him.

There was nobody there.

He didn't know whether that made it more or less worrying.

It threatened to choke him out as he reached his destination. The all-too-familiar maze of the second floor.

It was dark as the stairwell, with only a few dimly lit lights at the end, which Hyde knew were from the guards.

From his memory, a gunshot rang out. Again, he was faced with Jastyn, the obstacle. She was just another victim in the numbers, another helpless one that deserved nothing of what she had gotten.

_Damn you, Hyde._

He shoved the feeling down when it rose in his chest. There would be time for lamenting later.

The maze was easier to navigate than he had recalled. Perhaps it had been from personal experience.

Lear flashed in his mind and Hyde spat a curse, leaning against a wall.

Like Rilon, he was sick of him. Eternally sick. Still, he wondered how everyone thought he had died. He wondered if anyone had deduced the truth.

He swatted away the thoughts as if they had been flies buzzing around his head and stood.

Quietly, he continued his trek down the hall, nothing but the sound of his breathing disturbing the air.

But his footsteps, the rhythmic tapping of the heel of his boot wasn’t the only one. There was another.

Hyde’s breath quickened. His heart began racing, pounding in his chest, threatening to break out of its cage at a moment's notice. His mind immediately went to one thing.

_Guard._

Someone was following him.

He whirled around in the narrow hallway, his fingers tapping upon the shard, making hardly any noise. He held his breath and held out the shard. He pulled the vial from his pocket and stared out it. It seemed to tingle in his hand, giving off a faint glow.

Then, quickly, he held up the shard and opened the vial.

The follower, sensing that he had stopped, quickened their footsteps.

A long breath escaped from Hyde’s nose. He dropped the vial, now empty, to the floor. His heart went to his throat, and he turned to face the figure.

The euphoria made his face flush, sent him into a fear-high. He kept his hands still, even if his heart still pounded with anxiety.

“You know what I came here for?” He held his voice at a hoarse whisper, yet it echoed throughout the hall. He still tapped at the shard.

The guard’s eyes glinted in the dim light of the hallway. “Should I guess then?”

The voice was neither masculine nor feminine, yet it held an air of experience. This guard would be harder for him than Jastyn had.

“You should know — it’s happened before.” Hyde sneered; he stared at the shard as though it had suddenly gained his attention. In a way, it had.

The guard approached him. Here, Hyde could see them more clearly. They were male, with short, blond hair. They couldn’t have been taller than Lear had been, hardly reaching his chin.

The guard didn’t even flinch as Hyde held the shard’s tip to his throat, but they had fear passively glint in their eyes.

A low, deep chuckle started in Hyde’s throat. This was quite amusing.

The man was clueless.

Neither of them moved for what seemed like an eternity until Hyde lowered the shard. The guard’s breath heaved — they were definitely afraid now.

But they didn’t have time to react. Hyde seized them by the collar and threw them against the wall. They barely had time to stand before Hyde raced up to them and held them against the wall, eye level to him.

“Say, guard, what’s your name?”

The guard only stared at him, sneering in indignation.

Hyde held the shard to the guard’s throat. “_**Who are you, dammit?**_”

The guard only smiled, quite literally spitting out their name.

“Rias. That yelling’s going to get you caught.”

“Suppose it is.” He dug the shard deeper into Rias’ throat, so much that their breath began to gurgle. “You can sleep now, Rias.”

He swiped the shard against the guard’s throat. The reaction was instant — as soon as Hyde let go and Rias slumped to the floor, the poison had done its work.

The guard was dead.

Hyde dropped the shard and heard the distant ring in his ear.

He was done.

Consciousness was something he would now be willing to let go of. The mind space was quite welcoming, warm as he sunk back into its depths.

As he fell to the floor, Rilon felt his muscles shriek in protest, as if he had run up and down the entire stairwell twice.

Silently, he cursed.

This wasn’t his floor. This wasn’t his room.

He was supposed to be on the tenth floor, safe within his bed, asleep or writing.

Checking the time was the last thing he had remembered.

He glanced up, and it didn’t occur to him what had happened until he saw the figure — a guard — lying ominously still upon the floor, long since failing in their fight against the throes of death.

An audible, choked gasp escaped from Rilon’s throat. He felt himself begin to shake uncontrollably, crawling over to the guard to see if he still had any hope in saving them.

He brushed the guard's hair away from their face, not surprised to find no reaction, closed their eyes to prevent himself from flinching away from the blank stare, the guard still seeing their final moments of terror.

Rilon slumped over, his hands on his lap; he bared his teeth, his eyes closed in an expression of pain.

“_Dammit_.”

Although the guard was dead, Rilon picked them up and cradled them in his arms, muttering reassurances to mainly himself.

He threw his head up at the sound of quick footsteps. He couldn't make up a lie as he had with Lear, pretending to hide behind a closed door, feigning to be in the throes of anxiety.

He was done for.

“I swear there was yelling. Why don't you fucking be — _Rilon_.”

Asiah stood over the two of them.

“What are you doing here?”

Rilon attempted to force the words out, make up some sort of poor lie, but all that came out of his mouth were incomprehensible childish blabberings. His shaking grew worse than before.

Asiah knelt before Rilon and the guard, dismissing whoever had been with him. His voice grew sympathetic, but what he said next sounded like he was comforting a small child rather than Rilon.

“You tried to save him, didn't you?”

Still unable to speak, Rilon nodded. It was a lie. The guard had been dead before he was conscious.

“Then that's his blood.” Asiah inspected the guard, brushing away their hair. He barely blinked as he stood again. He muttered something that could have only been what the guard had died from.

“Did you see who did this?”

It took a moment for Rilon to reply, but when he tried to, all that came out was a series of sobs and tears. He shook his head. Another lie.

“Why were you here, Ri?”

“I came... I came to find you.” Rilon felt more of a child with every passing minute. “_And then...”_ He resumed his childish blubbering, unable to say anymore.

Distantly, Rilon heard his brother call out for the guards.

He set the dead guards body upon the floor and, shaking, stood.

_I can't risk this again._

_I need to clean up this mess before anyone else dies._


	23. Chapter Twenty - Two

“Ten people, Rilon.”

Only four people sat at the desk, and the three others made Rilon a whole load of uncomfortable.

“Ten people.”

It was the fifth time someone had mentioned it, and Rilon was ready to slam his hands upon the table and call it quits.

“Are you listening?” One man, Luca, fixed him with his gaze, scowling in indignation. His arms were crossed, telling Rilon nothing other than the fact of the meeting.

So he mocked him, crossing his own arms and scowling back. He only smiled when Luca's scowl deepened, which, as he saw in the moments following, made the younger man's hands twitch.

“Say anything else related to ten and I'll slap the lot of you.”

“Well then. You were directly involved or seen near three of the victims, which include Guards Nylan Wajek and Rias Falade, and Officiate Dana Edison.”

“Yes,” Rilon said. “And that’s suspicious _how_?”

Asiah was the one to speak next.

“They’re all connected to the Arlett family somehow. All guards were bodyguards, the officiate of the coronation, and then there’s -”

Rilon shot him a glare, and he fell silent.

He flashed his gaze toward Luca, who now flinched under his gaze but said nothing to relieve his fear. “And you’re here. Why?”

“Because,” Luca bit back the nickname — it was apparent on his tongue that he wanted to say it in a retort. “The blood work of each guard tested, with the exception of Guard Smith, revealed traces of unknown lethal chemical, the same one which was reported to have been stolen from London Medical University back in the year 2657. Their _entire_ supply, Arlett.”

The accusation hung in the air, tense and thick enough to cut through. Rilon flashed a helpless glance toward the other figure, Alice, who had been brought as some sort of lie detector.

The lie detector little did the others know, was an ineffective one. Alice had said nothing, even if Rilon’s anxiety was obvious.

Then he chuckled, throwing the accusation back at them. “Oh, so you think I stole them and killed those people?” He threw his arms in the air helplessly. “Do I look like I'm capable of doing such a thing?”

Luca added a faint curse, and Alice let out a low chuckle.

She leaned back in her chair, crossing her legs upon the table much to Asiah's disdain. She wasn't very guard-like for a guard.

Luca grimaced; his hand, now curled into a fist, slammed upon the table. “You know full well that there's no alibi in your name. Not for those guards, not for Officiate, nor your father. Do you get what I'm saying, Arlett?”

Only Alice flinched at his wave of anger. Perhaps her strength as an empath was too overpowering.

“You trying to hurt me, _Arschloch_?” Rilon abruptly stood up from his chair. He glanced at his brother for help but Asiah offered none. “Want to go at it again, for old times’ sake?”

“Give me alibi. Give me one _fucking_ valid alibi and maybe I’ll consider it.” Luca echoed him, standing up in his own chair.

The others looked helpless, frozen at the table.

“First four guards I could not have poisoned because I was nowhere near them when they died, and from my studies, I know that poison kills upon contact, such as Rias’ murder, although the circumstances were a bit less… _fortunate_. I don’t know how Edison died, He pointed an accusing finger at his brother. “Because nobody bothered to release the details, and Lear -” He cut himself off and his breath choked in his throat. “And Lear…”

“He didn’t receive the news after our father had died, Averin. He’d been in his apartment the entire time.” Asiah stood up in his chair. “That chemical could have been stolen by anyone.”

Luca’s gaze flashed toward Rilon. The biggest help he was being, choosing not to expose the lie he was keeping between his teeth. “This is meeting meant for more experienced Council members. Why was I called here?”

Asiah scowled but said nothing. He was keeping a lie between his teeth as well. They all were.

“This feels like it’s going nowhere.” Luca fixed his collar with a huff. When he slid out his chair, it fell.

Luca slammed a fist upon the table, cursing loudly. “Oh, _son of a bitch_!”

He shook his head but didn’t fix his chair, storming out of the room and slamming the door.

Alice was the next to be rebuked, her wings snapping open as Asiah turned to her.

“Nothing. You said nothing.” What rage he must have held back was clearly showing, as Alice looked uncomfortable, but only shrugged as an accusing finger was pointed towards her. “You are…” Asiah stood from his chair, fixing his hair. “A… pathetic guard. _Pathetic_.”

He marched away just as Luca had done, muttering, “_Pathetic_” over and over in rapid succession.

Alice stared at Rilon in silence, her face contorted into a weird excuse of a smile. After a moment, she burst out laughing.

Rilon only shook his head, staring over her shoulder at the door as it slammed shut. Alice’s laughter died down, as though noting his change in mood. He wasn’t interested in a laugh, but rather interested in the moods of others.

“Luca knows what happened. I could see him biting it back.”

“Don’t you go searching my damn mind.” Rilon waved her off, standing from the chair.

“You can’t let him know that it worked.”

Rilon tapped his forehead. “As long as they don’t know, it didn’t work.”

“But more people will die.” Alice protested.

_Does it look like I care?_ Rilon bit back the retort, although he knew the anger emanating off of him was enough to send a clear message.

_As long as they don’t piss me off._

Alice flashed him a sympathetic smile but said nothing to relieve Rilon of his worries. She stood up from her chair and slid it back into the table. There was only a deep sigh from her as she left the room.

Rilon sighed, resting his head in his hands.

“Glad that didn’t happen.” He tapped rhythmically upon the table. “Would you have risked that, Arlett?”

Hyde smiled, staring at the door. He still tapped upon the table, smiling to himself. “You’re very…” he stopped, staring at his hand. “Horrible at hiding your… skittish… anxiety.”

Rilon was silent.

Hyde frowned. The tapping stopped. “You know, you aren’t going to like tying yourself down, being in a relationship. I respect that, but…” He then smiled. “You’re going to have to respect my own wishes.”

_What… do you mean?_

“Well, you may have not attended the solstice party a week back but… I did.” He stares at the black ring on his hand, Rilon’s personal symbol, the meager thing that Hyde had to respect him for. “And Ottawa was there, and you know me.”

_You_ didn’t.

“You see Rilon,” he continued, ignoring his alter. “I’m engaged.”

_I… I don’t understand._

“Did you not hear what I said?” Hyde lowered his hand from his face. “Engaged. I am to be married upon the winter solstice, and you are to allow me two weeks before and after then.”

_What? I… I never agreed to this_.

“Of course you didn’t.” Hyde’s smile grew brighter. “But did I ever ask for such permission?”

_Edward_.

Hyde couldn’t suppress his giggles. “_Did_ I?”

Rilon sighed. _No. I didn’t even know you had a girlfriend. Now let me out or I’ll strangle your sorry ass._

_You mean… like this?_

Rilon gasped for air, his breath fighting as though he had been near-drowned in a lake. He was filled with a seething anger that seemed to have no rhyme or reason to it whatsoever.

Although it had been a few days, Hyde had found it more amusing in his more… spontaneous transformations, taking control when Rilon was distracted or preoccupied, or, more often, while he was asleep.

Rilon would awake with half-remembered dreams, Hyde's memories that flashed upon his gaze and were gone within an instant.

Hyde would laugh at his little mind slips, placing the blame upon Rilon and Rilon alone. He found it amusing that Rilon was restricted in his words, and he was not.

Hyde was free as a bird, while Rilon was trapped in a cage, teased but the bird for his lack of freedom.

_Freiheit_.

That was how the word was spoken upon his tongue. Hyde taunted him with the word, laughing at his snarls of anger or outbursts of rage.

Toying with his emotions, toying with him.

Hyde was giggling now, the annoying, hoarse giggle that pissed Rilon off to no end.

_Are you forgetting something, my dear?_

“For -forgetting what?”

_Two weeks. Winter solstice. I'm getting married._

“You're what?”

_I thought you didn't understand? Don't you like me ‘finally getting a life’ as you so said yourself?_

Rilon shook his head, although his words did not disapprove of Hyde. For one, he was glad that his alter found someone, but… the prospect of him disappearing within the mind space for weeks, maybe months at a time just for Hyde to fulfill his so-called desires was an unnerving thought.

This was another reason he never wanted to be married. Too many secrets could be shared. There was practically nothing not shared between partners, and sharing any unwanted secrets, Rilon feared that he would be facing the consequences in a more severe way than he wanted.

He pulled at his collar as his breath gave an agonized hitch. He stole a glance at the door, in fear that someone may have heard. He wanted nobody to hear him talking, especially to himself. Institution wasn't what he was willing to risk.

“Do you realize what happens… if you potentially… have children, Edward?”

_Children_?

“If they find out that you and I are, well, the same… you know how children always tell the truth; you know how they blabber… I can't risk our secret getting out, Edward. I can't risk my reputation to let a... bastard child become President.”

Hyde sniffed, amused at the fact of Rilon's fears. _Hah. Bastard children. My dear Arlett, as far as we're concerned we have no blood relation. These children would be mine and mine alone. Oh, even if I do happen to have children, it wouldn't be for years, my dear. I wouldn't even consider partaking in such… odd activities, because I know that you aren't suited to that._

Rilon snorted, slamming a fist on the table. “You really need to quit with your nonsense, Edward. I won't have any of it.” He spat. “Two weeks. That's _it_. Nothing else for a month afterward, do you understand?”

Hyde gave an amused giggle. He had gotten what he wanted. His deal had been fulfilled. _Oh, yes. Thank you, Arlett._

Rilon stared at the door again as something flashed at the edge of his vision. He thought he had known what it was, but there was nothing there when he turned his gaze fully upon it.

_It's just a mind trick. He told himself. Just a simple trick._


	24. Chapter Twenty - Three

Back in his room, Rilon found that Jackie had been waiting for him, going through his desk.

He bit back a sharp retort, hiding the fact of his return.

Luckily, she had cast his journal aside, showing no sign of having read it, but it was open, with some subconscious part of him saying that she had.

“_What are you doing_?”

His daughter startled, turning around in the chair to face him. She placed her hands daintily in her lap and stared at him innocently. Her golden eyes briefly flashed, sending an unnerved shock through Rilon's body.

After a minute, she smiled broadly.

“Don't… do that.” Rilon dismissed her and her smile disappeared. “Not that... The eye-flashing thing.”

“Oh,” Jackie said, hardly blinking. “I can't help that. It's an emotional thing.”

“So what are you going through my stuff for?”

“No reason.” She smiled again. “I just need to ask you something, although I doubt that you know the answer.”

Rilon crossed his arms and sniffed. “What is it?”

“Well, I like someone.”

“Like someone?” Rilon attempted to hide his stammering but did a poor job of doing it, earning giggling from Hyde that was so hoarse, it made his ears ring. “Like... ‘_like_’ someone?”

“I knew that I should have asked Asiah,” Jackie muttered.

“Do you think I know this… romantic stuff?” Rilon bit his tongue to keep himself from swearing. “Yes, trust someone like me to give you relationship advice.”

He showed her the ring he was wearing, proof that even he didn't know what the hell he was talking about.

Again she muttered — although in a singsong voice — “I knew I should have asked your brother. He should know — he's dating —” she cut herself off before the name was said, staring at Rilon in an unsettling way. Her eyes flashed again, making him flinch.

It wasn't a surprise to Rilon that his brother was with someone. He had been giving off that aura for awhile now. Still, he supposed that he had the off chance of being wrong. He didn't expect his brother to be in a relationship, and even if he was, that was fine with him as well.

He was glad that no expectation was given to be in a relationship, even at his age, though his odd relationship with Luca was some other story.

Yet, still, it had been nice to hear that people weren't slapping on labels that they were together.

But what reason had kept his brother from telling him who he was with. Why was he lying through his teeth about being with someone at all?

Maybe it was obvious and the signs had just gone over his head.

Was that note Asiah had left one of the signs?

_Oh my God._

“Jackie, I — get me Asiah.” His breath quickened. “You can ask me later.”

“Oh?” Jackie sat up in his chair, smiling broadly. “Alright.”

As she dashed out of the room, Rilon sighed. He pulled out his hair, not tangled from stress, and headed toward the other room.

* * *

Asiah steadied his breath as he entered. Why was there a need to worry? His brother had called him here just to talk. Was there a reason that he needed him?

He tugged on a lock of his hair, a longer part of his bangs he'd deliberately kept that way, and he decided to wait.

Had Rilon heard him come? He decided to check.

“I'm here, Ri.”

“Alright, just give me a minute.”

But every passing minute after what Rilon promised, Asiah's patience withered. His brother was taking too long, mainly being nitpicky about his hair as he constantly was.

_Can't he just… worry later?_

Asiah crossed his arms and stared at Rilon's desk before him. His journal lay open, its pages scribbled with heavy marks and a language that he couldn't be bothered to read.

“You do realize how long you're taking?” He shut the journal — praying that his brother wouldn't notice. It was likely that he would, but Asiah simply didn't care.

“Yeah, like I said, just give me a minute.” Rilon's reply came from the bathroom. “Just, fixing up some things.”

“And why is that important?” Asiah picked up the journal from the desk and skimmed through its pages.

_Set it down._

He obeyed his own command and set the journal down, but he did cast it a wary glance as Rilon entered the room.

His brother — as expected — was still messing with his hair, fixing the hair tie multiple times and all with frustrated grumbles under his breath.

“Would you just let me —”

“No,” Rilon interrupted him as he tried to approach and fix it for him. “I'm _fine_.”

He appeared to give up after several more tries, sighing in frustration and staring at Asiah. “I need an answer, Asiah.”

Asiah crossed his arms and leaned back on the desk, staring at the floor and laughing nervously. “Wh-what do you mean?” He asked.

“I need to know something, Asi...” Rilon's gaze made his head snap up.

“Don't ‘_Asi_’ me. You took too long.”

Rilon crossed his own arms, drawing out a long, deep sigh. He blinked several times but said nothing. He paced to the balcony window, Asiah following him with his gaze.

It grew silent for several moments, and it was a tense, almost forced silence.

Asiah made the decision to break it.

“So, do you remember Amil?”

“Yeah…?” Rilon stared at him. From his gaze, Asiah knew that his older brother had him where he wanted him. “So?”

Uneasily, Asiah moved from the desk to the chair. He took a quick moment to consider what he was doing. “And you do know that we were friends?”

“Yes.” Jealousy hitched in Rilon's tone.

“So, well, um… he and I… we might be…” Asiah cut himself off, growing nervous. His heart was in his throat, threatening to choke him. “Oh God, what am I doing?”

He buried his face in his hands, laughing.

_Oh my God, I'm having a breakdown. Stay calm, Asi. Stay calm._

He let out a breath he had very briefly held in. “If you wanted the answer… yes, we were dating.”

“Were?” Rilon turned to him, blinking in mingled triumph and worry. His gaze held a single question, the common 'are you alright'. “What do you mean ‘were’?”

I'm making such a big deal. Don't start from what you were going to say, Asiah. Just say what you meant to. Give him the answer he wants.

Asiah stared his brother straight in the eye, not even directly answering the question, but just spit the words out with no control over them.

“I'm gay.”

He stared back down at the floor again, trying to control the panic in his head. It continuously jabbed at him, becoming a bothersome thorn in his side.

“I would have told you sooner, but, things happened, I started doubting you'd even listen to me.”

It wasn't the entire truth. There was that occasional doubt, that fear of judgment that it would go poorly.

He wouldn't know until Rilon reacted.

When he looked back up, he found that Rilon had been staring back. It was a look of mingled worry and concern. He sighed.

“Oh, Asi…”

“I could have just said ‘Well, I'm ending our bloodline with me’, but I guess ‘I'm gay and marrying another guy’ sufficed more.”

When Rilon did not immediately respond, Asiah tilted his head back.

“Oh my God, you hate me. I knew it.” He felt his hands shaking. Why had he agreed to this? Why did he feel like the answer had been forced out of him even though it technically hadn’t? His brother had been curious, that was all he wanted, wasn’t it?

He pressed his hands to his face, willing his emotions to stop when they could. He had kept them all repressed.

_Be strong for my brother, they always said. Be strong for your people, so they won’t have to._

_God, why am I such a disaster?_

“You're… you're getting married?” Rilon blinked at him.

“To Amil, yes.” Asiah stood. “Next year.”

He padded over to his brother, following his gaze. Rilon was staring into nothing but empty space, his gaze dim and his eyes distant.

“That wasn't — that wasn't the answer you wanted, was it?”

Rilon chuckled, mostly to himself. “Not exactly.” He said, ruffling his hair, then let out a nervous laugh. “Jackie asked me for ‘relationship advice’.”

“Isn't she a little... young to be dating?”

“My thoughts exactly.” Rilon chuckled. “Why did she ask me, when you’re clearly the expert?”

Asiah laughed but refused to reply, the many thoughts on his mind preventing any words from reaching his lips. He shot a glance toward his brother, who appeared to be the same way.

What was on his mind, exactly? Was he judging him for giving him the wrong answer, or was it something else, such as just a simple assessment? Was it something else? Had the closely intermingled events made him doubt himself?

_Was it because of that meeting?_

“Do I need to leave you alone?” Those were the first words that came to his lips, a poorly formatted question.

Either way, it worked out in the end, for Rilon nodded, though it was an absent-minded nod.

However, he did stop him before he reached the door.

“Asi?”

Asiah turned around to face him, blinking. “Yes?”

“Could you… talk to Jackie?” Rilon had his arms crossed and was very visibly shaking.

“Yes, I'll…” Asiah hesitated. “I'll talk to her.”

Rilon stared at the floor. “Good luck… on finding whoever… killed those people.”

Asiah nodded, which appeared to give his brother enough of an answer for him to turn around and face the balcony window once more. All that came from him next were mutterings that Asiah couldn't be bothered to understand or decipher upon a moment's notice.

Asiah opened the door to find Amil just where he had left him, lingering and pacing just outside his door.

Asiah's emotionally strong facade melted away; he nearly collapsed before Amil ran up to him and caught him in his arms.

Although the answer to the question was obvious, he spoke first.

“Are you alright, dear?”

Asiah managed to force himself upright, only to pull Amil into a tight embrace again. The other man did not flinch at this, ruffling the hair on the back of Asiah’s head.

Asiah knew that he needed no response; he could tell only from the reaction that Asiah had given as soon as he left the room.

“You know you could have left.” Asiah didn’t let go of him, lowering his voice to a whisper. “You could have.”

“You worry me too much, Asi.” Amil murmured; it was he who let go, brushing away the same lock of hair Asiah had earlier. He offered him, then, a smile of reassurance. “I wasn’t listening. You know I know your brother too well.”

“Too well?” Asiah echoed in question. It took him several moments for the thought to dawn on him. “Oh, you mean the incidents.”

“I may not have listened to this conversation, but I did hear the meeting earlier.”

Asiah felt his face flush in embarrassment. Suddenly, he regretted his words from earlier, his remarks he had made to his brother and his guard, who he had deemed — both in thought and audibly — pathetic and incompetent… Worthless. He regretted his outburst of anger toward his brother, how he must have been pressured into this meeting without forewarning. He had defended his brother from Director Averin’s… particularly harsh words about his father, Lear, although he may not have known the guilt that had been clearly plastered on Rilon’s face and in his hesitation.

It sickened him quite so to know that his brother and himself did not share the same views, but how Rilon kept his secrets deep within the confines of his mind although he wore his emotions on his sleeve.

“Was I too harsh?” Asiah stifled a chuckle.

Amil shook his head, amused despite himself. He held up his finger and lightly tapped Asiah’s nose. “Maybe a little.”

* * *

Reluctantly, he took into account the muffled words behind his door. He knew that it had been too obvious. Rilon only wanted a simple answer, but his brother’s answer had been enough for him to reconsider his thoughts. The note that had been left in his journal, why his brother had hesitated, although he’d been interrupted by whom he knew had been Amil behind that door.

_I guess the bloodline ends here. It ends with both of us. If you dare make any remarks, Edward, I swear to God —_

_I won’t, although I rather would, considering the Arlett family ends with either one of you._

“Unless either one of us has children, which,” He stole a glance back at his door, hearing two pairs of footsteps retreat away. “Considering what I have now learned, isn’t likely in the greatest sense.”

Hyde offered him no anecdote to relieve his thoughts, none of his usual remarks. He had been nearly stunned into silence.

“I will not consider any of your children mine,” Rilon added, walking back to his desk, picking up his journal. “None of them. I hope you’re happy.”

His journal had not been messed with, and Jackie looked like she had only scanned the first pages, found it unreadable, then cast it aside in frustration.

Rilon had been lucky. Had she read the later pages, he would have never forgiven her.

He didn’t need another person knowing who he was.


	25. Chapter Twenty - Four

Rilon agonized over the coming months, fearing his disappearance would cause unrest. He had forged an excuse upon a paper about a week from that day, hiding it in his topmost desk drawer until he needed it.

One week until he'd disappear off the face of the planet, hidden deep within the mind of a man who never truly existed. However, that wasn't the biggest fear that he had.

He had more than one fear that threatened to seize him and never let go. He feared that the man would not let him out, or would not be able to, and Rilon would be left screaming for an eternity — or until he was forgotten, or until Hyde died and erased them both off the face of the earth.

The night before this was to happen, Rilon sat down on his bed and went over his thoughts, much to the point where he broke down crying, mourning over the endless agony he'd be subjected to. No physical form, every memory dashed away as though they had all been dreams. No ability to speak at all to anyone but himself.

Oh, how his mind was such a _lonely_ place.

Before his last moments came, he changed into the clothing Hyde had left on the dresser two weeks previously, then left the letter upon his dresser. He left his glasses and his hair tie in the lowest dresser, carefully hidden under a small pile of papers, away from a prying eye.

Before he left, he let himself give up, let his consciousness slip away.

The mind space was dark, but warm, though lonely as well. It echoed with his footsteps, but what the sound echoed off of he'd never know. It was just a black, endless, murky void.

“You kept your promise,” Hyde spoke a light, amused lilt to his voice. His footsteps were much lighter, more careful.

When he approached, Rilon knew that he was merely an apparition, an echo of his outside form, much like Rilon was himself. Yet, Rilon would have less influence on the outside form than Hyde did, as his alter had control of the body while he did not.

_He would be nearly powerless here._

Hyde slowly paced up to him and smiled. It was an eerie smile and offered Rilon no comfort, but still, it was a smile in itself.

Rilon found himself trying to make more of an effort than he should have when he tried to flinch away when Hyde began fixing the lapels of his coat, his voice a cold, mocking comfort.

“Aren’t you a good Arlett? I like how you listened.”

Rilon felt like a child under his words, and snarled, pushing him away, reminding himself that both Hyde and he were just apparitions, not real.

Hyde reminded him of Luca, too much in a sense, but whereas Luca’s comfort back then had been real, Hyde’s was not. He was cold toward him, offering nothing.

“Did you not hear my question?” Hyde was now fixing Rilon’s coat collar, staring at him although with eyes narrowed.

Rilon chose not to reply and kept his mind silent as well. They could hear each other either way — there were no secrets kept here.

“_Rilon_.”

“Please get away from me.” Rilon flattened his voice to hide his anxiety, although he was doing it poorly. “_Please_.”

Hyde’s smile was cold as well. He said nothing.

Rilon felt his heart race. Perhaps he should have said nothing and kept his mouth shut.

But where would that get him? Hyde would only protest more often, screaming a string of endless curses that would bring Rilon mental agony.

Hyde tapped at the bridge of Rilon’s nose before moving away, much to Rilon’s relief.

Rilon felt sick.

This was just all taunts, a mental game to Hyde. He enjoyed this, letting Rilon suffer for his own gain.

How desperately Rilon wanted to seize Hyde by the collar; he'd choke the man until he turned blue, let his apparition die and fade under his grasp. He didn't mind being the only one left. His mind was a lonely place, but he wouldn't mind spending it without Hyde.

“Careful,” Hyde was still smiling. “This is quite a dangerous place to have thoughts.”

Rilon had let it slip his mind — no secrets could be kept here.

Hyde turned his back toward him, but Rilon could clearly see that his alter was fiddling with a small glass shard, which Rilon knew was an object of his great amusement.

Whatever euphoria he'd had previously now drained from him. He could feel himself growing pale with fear.

Hyde turned around and approached him again. Rilon felt his breath catch, his heart racing.

Hyde's face was close to his before he could realize anything. His smile faded for a brief second before appearing again, accompanied by the laughter that Rilon hated. “You seriously think that I'm going to hurt you?”

Rilon cleared his mind in desperation.

Hyde's eyes widened with near surprise as he realized what his alter had done. Again, he tapped Rilon's nose, chuckling. “You can't keep secrets here, my dear.”

This had been a diversion. Hyde knew more than he did, holed up in the mind space. He knew more tricks, he had more control.

Immediately Rilon's legs gave out; he felt himself struggling for air.

Hyde dropped the shard, which appeared to fall through the floor and disappear. He wiped his hand upon his cheek; his hand was dripping with a liquid that was unmistakably blood.

But rather than it being crimson, it seemed to reflect a nonexistent sky of stars.

This wasn't real.

So why couldn't he breathe, if the blood in his lungs and upon the floor were all an illusion? He wanted to breathe.

Then he had the strange desire to give up. He opened his mouth in a silent scream, the blood gurgling in his throat. He wasn't afraid of dying here. This was all an illusion.

All he needed to do was to save himself.

He needed to call out for someone, anyone. His brother, his children, Alice. Someone.

Rilon brought himself to his knees.

_This isn't real._

He clutched at his chest, where he knew the wound was. That was all he had. There was no needle and thread to fix it. There was nothing.

All he managed to choke out was a single word.

“_Luca_.”

“Really?” Hyde strode back over to Rilon and picked him up by the lapels of his jacket. “Of all the people you're desperate for and you cry for your goddamn_ Luca_?”

Rilon glared at his alter for several moments, stoic. After a minute, he smiled, the spit on Hyde's face.

Hyde wasn't fazed, letting out a deep, inhuman snarl. “Oh, you _little_ —”

He never got his chance to finish, suddenly letting go, dropping Rilon and clutching at his throat.

Triumphantly, Rilon sighed and dropped back to his knees. The wound that Hyde had inflicted was nothing compared to the one he had inflicted upon Hyde.

The knife he'd been holding dropped to the floor with a loud clang, then collapsed to the ground with a groan.

Beside him, Hyde lay with his arms stretched out helplessly, clawing for help. When he tried to speak, all that came out was incomprehensible gurgling.

Rilon had wanted to be safe here, lost within the deep, intricate crevices of his mind. What hadn't surprised him was the reappearance of Hyde; after all, he shared the mind space, too. Yet, his alter had mastered it. He knew Rilon's mind better than Rilon knew it.

Now, unlike before, Rilon felt the true cold of the mind space seep into his skin, or was it the feeling of his death that his body so desperately longed for?

Although he didn’t want either, he knew deep in the darkness of his mind that it was the latter.

The longing drew out and grabbed hold of him, shoving him to the ground. Rilon reached out and took hold of its tendrils, not bothering to fight back as they dragged him down into their murky abyss.


	26. Chapter Twenty - Five

For a moment, he felt sick, pausing against the current of people. He didn't want to fight against them, turning around and heading in the opposite direction to flow with them down the street until he could safely disappear down a narrow alley, away from the city square.

There was something dragging him down, giving him that utter feeling of loneliness.

He tapped lightly at his forehead.

“Are you there, Arlett?”

There was no immediate reply.

That was the catalyst to start his heart racing.

“_Arlett, please._”

_I really want to strangle you. I want them to find your body on the Tower floor, knowing what you did._

“Dear Arlett... isn't that a bit… isn't that overstepping it a bit?”

_No_. Rilon's response was hesitant, but the snarl remained present in his tone.

“Don't fucking scare me like that.”

_I can. I have. I'll do it again. _Rilon seemed to choke on his words.

Hyde shivered, not at the cold of the winter air, but rather at the thought of being alone in his mind.

Yet, somehow he thought that he could have gotten Rilon to shut up only temporarily, but that prospect only caused him fear. He’d trade off Rilon’s annoying voice for silence any day, but it appeared that now… it wasn’t likely to happen.

He would only find peace when he died.

Desperately, Hyde fought off the sickness rising in his throat and went back to join the crowd, fighting against the current, an outcast to their direction. He would not go with them. That was not where he was going.

He couldn’t remember the address, only details that she had given him. It was a three-story house, a lonely one on the edge of London, near the forest clearing that separated the city and the short distance to the smaller, ancient town of Watford. She had told him that it had stood out like a winter rabbit’s coat upon the night sky… whatever that meant, likely that it stood out among the rest.

Finally, the crowd thinned, allowing him to break free from it into a run, his footsteps loud upon the cobblestone street, dashing through a small marketplace in a brief panic, until, at last, he broke away from the square in a fit of triumph, repressing the shout that rose in his throat until he was absolutely sure that he was alone.

His reassurance was broken with a voice.

“You have a knack for showing up in the most random of places.”

“Said the one who wanders randomly around London.” Hyde paused as the realization dawned upon him before he could speak again. “You were _following_ me.”

Alva padded around him, watching him closely. There was a lit match in his hand and a smile upon his face.

He then dropped the match and stamped it out with his foot, before shrugging and padding on ahead down the street without a word.

Hyde stood there, snarling a string of curses, loud enough for Alva to hear him before he dashed after him.

“You didn’t see anything did you?”

“Eh, I was heading down toward the Central Marketplace when I saw you and my brain went, ‘_what the hell_’.” He snapped his fingers, staring at them with his eyes narrowed in intent. “Plus, I caught word of a wedding and you look too sharply dressed to be just randomly wandering around London yourself.”

Hyde stared at the ground as he walked, counting the cobblestones to avoid replying to Alva, who was surely waiting for a response.

“You don’t have to reply — I know it’s you.” Alva stopped snapping his fingers and lowered his hand. “To a Miss Elliott, as I’ve heard.”

Hyde's face flushed at the mention of her name; his head almost snapped in Alva's direction. “Now I'm the one to ask, are you flirting with me?”

Alva laughed, taking a matchbox out of his pocket and tossing it in the air. “Not a chance, and frankly, I'm not interested.”

“I wasn't asking,” Hyde muttered quietly.

They walked together until the larger buildings among the street grew more sparse, giving way to smaller buildings and even houses. Alva suddenly seized Hyde's hand — much to Hyde's surprise — and held it tightly. The pulse Hyde felt in his hand was pounding, fearful.

Why was Alva so afraid?

“Alva,” Hyde said no word beyond his name. The man was practically dragging him along, his breath shallow and gasping.

“_Alva_.” Hyde tugged back, stopping Alva in his tracks. “Could you let go?”

“Oh?” Alva suddenly looked down as if realizing what he was doing. His voice rose several octaves higher, and he yelped, abruptly letting go of Hyde's hand. “Jesus Christ — _Mother of God_.”

“For your information, you grabbed my hand, thank you very much.” Hyde snarled, walking on ahead. After a quick moment, he smiled, letting out a low, breathy chuckle.

Alva trailed on behind, his breath shuddering in mingled self-disgust and fear. His fear was poorly hidden, unlike Hyde's, who kept such extreme emotions to himself until absolutely necessary.

This was a higher class part of London, but somehow it was much quieter, with only dapples of people here and there on the street.

Was Alva afraid of them?

It wasn't likely.

“You know,” Hyde said after another short while. “I'm not sure Ottawa is going to like seeing you with me.”

“Does she not speak of me very highly?”

Hyde shook his head, surprised that Alva gave an answer at all. He kept his mouth shut, pondering over the question, as he reached a particular row of houses that stood at the very edge of London. One stood out from the rest; a three-story house that had been painted a bright shade of blue, unlike its counterparts, which dully blended into the rest of London, with a small — yet steep staircase leading up the door, which stood out from the house, and was small and lean, painted a deeper shade of red, almost a crimson color.

While Hyde skipped up the stairs like a hyperactive child, Alva hung back at the bottom, looking sick and uneasy.

Yet Hyde spared him not even a glance as he knocked on the door, then heard an excited flurry of footsteps race toward the two of them, yanking open the door.

Hyde wasn’t prepared for the hug that Ottawa gave him but did not flinch away although her grip was strong enough to break him.

“You can’t tell my mother you’re here… She… doesn’t quite know about you.” Ottawa let go but clung on to Hyde’s shoulders, staring at him with a quite insistent look in her eye. She glanced over her shoulder at Alva, and there was a flash of recognition before she narrowed her eyes at him. “Who’s he?”

“He’s a friend.” Hyde shrugged her off, pushing past her to the inside of the house. “Just someone I met a while ago. Don’t worry about him.”

He nodded his head, reassuring Alva that he was quite safe to come in. Alva, however, did not seem to approve of this, waving his hands with a clearly audible, “No.”

Ottawa shot him a glare, dismantling whatever pride he had left. “Are you going to stand there and whine like a child or do I have to come down there and drag you back up myself?”

Alva yelped, prompting a giggle from a quite-amused Ottawa, and very nearly crawled up the stairs.

Ottawa did drag him inside, however, and shut the door so any passersby did not see the private happenings of the Elliott household.

Ottawa told them to wait by the doorway, hurrying up a small spiral staircase. Once the two of them were sure that she was gone, Alva collapsed against the door.

“You didn't say that it was this Miss Elliott.” His glare was enough to set anything ablaze.

“I told you nothing.” Hyde twirled a lock of hair in his fingers. “What is your problem with her?”

“I may or may not have dated her way back when.” Alva clutched at his chest, looking as though trying to ease the panic back down his throat. “Until she found out that I was lying about my age and _accidentally_ got herself pushed down the stairwell.”

“You…” Hyde's glances went from the stairwell to Alva, then back to the stairwell. “You are a disgusting creature.”

Carefully, he kept his rage contained, although he did, in fact, want to pick Alva up, drag him up the stairwell, and ‘_accidentally_’ push him down to give him a taste of his own medicine. What was this rage he felt toward someone he once liked? Why did he so desperately want to draw Alva's blood?

He knew he should have let Ottawa drag him up the stairs, if not, he would have done it himself. That brought to him a strange joy that quite nearly made him burst out laughing.

Alva began to stand, but when Hyde shot him a glare, he sat back down and curled up beside the door.

Ottawa hurried back down moments later, and she had changed into a frilly dress, which was as nearly as light a blue as her house. Her hair had been tied back in a bow and an equally light blue veil was covering her face.

However, as beautiful as she was, the expression on her face was not that. She glanced at Hyde, then to Alva, and her expression grew sour.

“He knows, doesn't he?”

Hyde sent a glare toward Alva, who nodded.

“You can…” Ottawa waved her hand daintily, pulling a face to keep herself from laughing. “Stay right there. Edward,”

Her expression immediately changed as she cast her gaze upon him. Instead of her sour expression, she plastered on the biggest smile that Hyde had ever seen, at least upon her face.

He had given up trying to impress Arlett.

She didn't say anything to further her statement, changing the subject. “Are you going to be superstitious about this, too?”

“What?”

“About it being bad luck on seeing each other before a wedding?” Hyde sent a glance in Alva's direction. He sniffed, snarling. “I think he cancels it out.”

Ottawa turned, hurrying back up the stairs. She called back down, addressing Alva.

“If you move from that spot, I will know. I will make sure.”

Hyde gave a dainty wave toward Alva, chasing after Ottawa up the stairs.

The second floor was a more open space, to which Hyde could liken to that of a studio, except for a few bedrooms dotting the far back wall.

It appeared to be a more private hangout, for when the Elliotts wanted to get away from society.

“Well, are you going to stand there like an idiot or are you going to join me?” Ottawa held out her hand while twirling around the open space, the frills on the back of her dress flowing behind her like wings.

Yet Hyde only stood at the top of the steps, watching her dance alone. She only twirled around and occasionally skipped over spare things that may have fallen upon the floor, but her dance seemed to have a purpose to it, a passion. She seemed to enjoy what she was doing, by seeming to not know what she was doing.

Finally, after some moments, she paused before Hyde at the top of the stairwell, taking him by the hand and pulling him fully into the room. Where he usually would have yelped or protested in some way, he did not, falling into step with her as she danced, although where she was graceful, he was clumsy, stumbling over his feet as though they were too big on him.

It took her own yelp to elicit a response from him.

“Ottawa, I can’t dance… I don’t dance.”

“Obviously,” She said, laughing. “Or else you wouldn’t have been trampling over my toes at the party, or now...”

She got in his face, searching his gaze. Did she want another response from him? Did she think that he was lying about what he said somehow?

Hyde didn’t know — he saw nothing but a strange curiosity when he searched her gaze, even behind the thin veil that she wore.

Still, she only laughed. Only then Hyde did realize how stupid they both must have looked just standing there, staring at each other like love-struck idiots.

He pulled away from her as he heard someone’s footsteps begin to pad up the stairs. It couldn’t have been Alva, as the footsteps were too light, and he had been too scared out of his wits to move anyway, but they were too heavy to have been a woman’s footsteps, so Hyde knew that he could not fear Ottawa’s mother coming to check on her.

She was not often home, as Ottawa described in their past meetings, yet usually off for work, or traveling across the Kingdoms, or perhaps visiting other family members in the Southern part of the Kingdom.

It could have only been her father, who knew about Hyde, but only likely as a friend, and not something more, unless Ottawa had told him.

“Why is that _bastard_ by the door?” He muttered as he nearly raced up the stairs, gasping for breath. “I thought I told him he wasn’t allowed in this house anymore?”

“I didn’t expect him here.” Ottawa raced toward her father, catching him as he nearly collapsed upon the floor. “He’s with Edward.”

“Oh, Edward’s here?” Her father stared at him with disdain. “He brought that bastard here?”

Hyde crossed his arms, looking away defensively. “He followed me, Mr. Elliott. It was not my choice.”

The man snorted but looked relieved. “At least you left him by the door. Who knows what trouble he might have caused himself should he have moved.”

“I could have pushed him down the stairs, Mr. Elliott, if that so pleases you.” Hyde smiled at the man, who was pulling nervously at his graying hair. “Or I could have thrown him out onto the street.”

Mr. Elliott shook his head, avoiding the question verbally and turning toward Ottawa. “When did your mother say she’d be home?”

“The letters told me any day now, but,” she gestured toward Hyde, whose smile turned uneasy. “Does she know about him?”

“I’m right here.” Hyde’s arms fell to his sides. His voice broke with annoyance.

Mr. Elliott waved him off in ignorance, still appearing uneasy about Hyde’s presence. He said nothing.

“_Father_,” Ottawa’s voice was blunt. “Does she?” Although she knew the answer, she wanted to prompt it from him, to see whether he’d lie or not.

“No,” he replied.

“Then we can tell her when she gets home, can’t we?” She perked up, but the smile she gave her father was fake, only made to reassure him. She shot a glance at Hyde. “I promised the solstice. I can’t keep him waiting.”

“Still here,” Hyde muttered.

He grew bored quickly, pacing around the open floor. If he hadn’t described it as a studio before, he could have said it was unfinished. The walls were painted an off-white, with few large windows here and there. The only furniture that he could see were four or five velvet chairs in the far eastern corner, near the largest window of the floor, overlooking the streets of London.

When he turned, he saw the bedrooms once again. Three of them.

This floor was where the main happenings of the household occurred, not unlike the small argument that was going on near the stairs. Hyde could nearly laugh at the two, but refrained, as any little noise he made would be heard by the two, and they would stop, and suddenly his embarrassment would grow, and he would grow nervous, and the childish mannerisms of his alter would make them question him.

_Arlett_.

He’d nearly forgotten about Rilon, who had gone silent after Hyde’s panic. He wondered what he had done to cause this, but Hyde suspected that he had been so involved with the happenings of his life that he had either ignored the other or had purposefully dampened his voice.

The annoying, little voice who could not influence his behavior.

He crossed his arms again, tapping a finger upon them, clearing his throat.

“We’re going to be a minute, Eddie.” It was Ottawa who waved him off this time, much to his annoyance. Hyde sighed, rolling his eyes, but he smiled.

These were family matters, of course. Immediate family. Hyde stared at the floor, sighing in regret. He had distanced himself from the Arlett family, who, in a sense, was his blood, but that was because of Rilon. Otherwise, he had no immediate family. It was just him.

Ottawa was his first chance at something remotely related to family, even if not by blood. He’d liked her from that moment in the hospital, where she had followed him to watch the sunset, dragged him out on the balcony, and watched it until she was called back, and afterward, he hadn’t seen her for months. He had tried to fill that void during that time using any means necessary, with no care for what anyone else felt, not even Rilon, who controlled his freedom from the moment of his creation to the point where Lear had died and Rilon had fractured his mind into pieces, allowing for a more easy escape for Hyde to live out his freedoms as he so desired.

“Edward,”

“How long have you been staring?” His thoughts were making him dizzy. He needed to sit down.

“How long are you comfortable with?”

Hyde pulled a face at which she laughed. He stuck out his tongue, which made her laugh grow to the point of wheezing.

“Alright, you two.” Mr. Elliott dismissed them. “Did you come here to flirt or get married?”

Ottawa pulled a mocking face at Hyde, which Mr. Elliott did not see. Hyde only smiled, but eventually, that facade failed, and he burst out laughing as well.

“Both of you.” From the way the older man's voice snapped, he wasn't playing around. He pulled away from the stairs and strode over towards Hyde, who immediately pulled a straight face and showed no sign of his previous emotions.

“This immaturity won't get you anywhere, son. Got that?”

Stiffly, Hyde nodded. “Yes, Mr. Elliott. ”

He felt like a child with his reply, stuttering his words.

Mr. Elliott patted him on the shoulder, giving him a reassuring, yet gruff smile. “Now, get over there and actually say vows before I do it myself.”

“Alright, fine.” Hyde rolled his eyes. He barely made it a few steps before Ottawa came bowling into him.

“Jesus Christ —” Ottawa's father barely suppressed a laugh. “If I hadn't seen you two before, I would have said you were a married couple already.”

Both Hyde and Alva shot Mr. Elliott a glare, to which he shrugged and shook his head.

Hyde, sighing to relieve his panic, related the vows he had rehearsed in his head — and had earned some rebuking from Rilon for — to Ottawa. This was real. This was not a dress rehearsal.

“I, Edward Hyde, take thee Ottawa Elliott to be my wife,” his panic rose as he spoke. So much for the sigh. “To... to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish; I promise to be faithful to you until death parts us.”

Ottawa repeated him. Her voice was more collected as if she had rehearsed it more than he had.

“I, Ottawa Elliott, take thee, Edward Hyde, to be my husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish; and I promise to be faithful to you until death parts us.”

Although she had been more collected in her words, the vow ended in a poorly stifled laugh.

“If it is so, I pronounce thee as husband and wife.” Ottawa's father didn't have time to finish what he was saying before Ottawa pulled Hyde into an embrace and kissed him.

Hyde did not panic, as he expected that he would. Instead, he seemed to relax, his panic draining from his body.

He had never really kissed anyone before — even though it was Ottawa kissing him — but now that he had, he seemed to like it.

He almost fell into a drunken daze, only startled by the steps of Ottawa's father heading back down the stairs, creaking footsteps and impatient mutterings. He took no mental note of it other than the most probable fact that he had gone to check on Alva.

Ottawa let go after some minutes and stared at him, fixing the lapels of his jacket. “You dressed nicely today.” Her smile was shy; she appeared as high as he was. “Quite perfect, I'd say, but you didn't brush your hair as always.”

Her eye was still sharp and so was her mind. She spoke calmly as though she still assessed the situation.

To Hyde, he could nearly agree with the unsaid words; maybe this was all a dream and Rilon had tricked him into thinking that this was reality.

If it was, Rilon wouldn't prepare himself for the mental agonies upon his reappearance.

It was likely that this was not to happen. This was real. His panic was judging based on preexisting facts, prejudices that were only half-truths, at least in his mind.

Ottawa placed a hand upon Hyde's right shoulder, interlacing the fingers of her free hand with the fingers of his left hand.

They danced again, though more graceful, gliding across the floor like two swans upon a lake. They paused by the largest window, staring out upon London before sharing another brief, yet passionate kiss.

“We forgot about Alva.” Hyde's voice was low and cautious — he feared that her father may return and interrupt their quiet moment.

“He can piss off.” Ottawa smiled. “Leave him to freeze in the cold or,” her voice seemed to catch but Hyde didn't clearly know. “He can sleep on the couch and wait for us until morning.”

Hyde did not reply — no matter how much he wanted to, not one appropriate response came to his brain that could be said aloud.

He chose to filter his words around her despite the fact she could pretty much dismantle any of his thoughts on a dime. He chose to clear his mind of anything she could possibly dismantle in the future, such as the greatest fact that he was not truly who he said he was. That she'd fallen for a lie, a fragment of someone else's consciousness.

But for now, he was too in the moment to have really any care in the world.

They danced until night fully fell, until it enveloped the entire floor in monochrome colors. It was then when their footsteps tripped over each other, that they weren't able to see each other clearly as they had been.

Before they headed off, Ottawa ran downstairs to check on her father. There was a flurry of words spoken in a language Hyde did not understand. Hyde would have supposed that it was an argument, had it not been spoken sweetly.

He heard her next speak to Alva, demanding what she had promised she'd do — let him freeze out in the cold or sleep on the couch in the living room. There was no protest from the man downstairs, who promptly hurried past the stairs and into another room.

Ottawa’s footsteps retreated back up the stairs, then where she headed past Hyde toward one of the bedrooms, where she stood, impatient until Hyde took complete notice of her. He showed no hesitation in joining her.

She pushed the door open and dragged Hyde inside. There was a click as the door locked, shutting them in, oblivious to the outside world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this is a good time to point out that even of my vigorous studies of maps, I still don't have an idea of what London and its neighboring towns are like.  
But then again, this is in the future, so anything can happen, I guess.
> 
> And yeah I'm a useless aro who can't write weddings either.
> 
> Eh, this chapter is like a year old anyway


	27. Chapter Twenty - Six

The blood by now had long dried, turning an ominous shade of blue. It could be likened to a bruise and upon its touch, felt as such.

“You broke your promise.” Rilon wiped away the remaining blood that had not dried away from his mouth and struggled to his feet.

“Promises aren’t always kept, my dear.” Hyde’s voice was sickeningly sweet, yet, he too was nursing his own wounds earned from the dream-death. Rilon was painfully aware of how self-conscious he felt with his hands covered in the ominous shade of blue, of how the other saw the blood as bruises flecking his hands and throat. “It’s common sense.”

“Why don’t I change the wording on that,” Rilon said, a snarl deep in his throat. “You _lied_ to me.”

“Well, yes, I did that too.” The curiosity upon Hyde’s face mocked him. How desperate Rilon was to slap it off of him, slap some common sense into him to show how childish he was. “It was a simple mistake, really.”

“You’re going to let your feelings get the best of you. One day, she will leave you, and you will regret every moment you spent with her. She pretends that those feelings she has for you are genuine. She could be lying to your very face.”

No emotion shown upon Hyde’s face; he threw off his vest, discarding it upon the floor.

His mind was clear. No secrets could be hidden here, even within the deepest crevasses of the mind. There was nothing to be hidden from Rilon — Hyde was being honest, terribly honest, sickeningly honest.

“And who told you that, Arlett?” he said. “Lear?”

The word was unspoken, kept on the tongue. Rilon had to bite it back, clear his mind. It only hung in the air, so much that Hyde purred at it, satisfied with the answer, or rather, the lack of one.

Truth be told, it wasn’t rather said by Lear or rather, anyone. It was what Rilon had picked up from experience. People loved him, but it had all been a lie when they turned upon him, souring any relationship they’d had if any in the first place. He’d never tied himself down with anyone for long. Any friendships would pass and be gone like a vapor as it was borne upon the wind.

The only response he chose to give was a quiet sigh.

“You’re a _pitiful_ thing,” Hyde tossed a small shard in his hand, staring at it rather than Rilon. “Letting people take advantage of you. Have you thought of your dear brother yet? Don’t you think that one day he’ll up and leave you to fend for yourself? I always see it in the back of your mind, Arlett. You have your doubts. I see them. You push them to the back of your mind. You should know that there are no secrets kept here, so don’t judge my relationships before you judge your own, my dear.”

Yes, Rilon had his doubts. He couldn’t admit that, though. He didn’t want to admit it.

“Arlett?” Hyde drew close to him. His breath was as sickening as his voice. “Don’t you want to admit your secrets?”

Rilon flinched away, knowing what he was going to try. Instinctively, the knife appeared in his right hand again, which Hyde shot a glance to, but showed no other reaction of seeing.

Two weeks fighting this stupid apparition, helpless. To the real world, he was dead, until two weeks passed and he finally was let out once again, with all of this fight gone and dashed from his memory. Nobody would have a doubt at where he was, only how he had disappeared off of the face of the planet, not found within the security of any Kingdom.

He threw arms before his face, collapsing to his knees. The knife fell from his hand, disappearing through the floor. The mind space flashed bright shades of red and gray before falling black once again. The only sound he could hear wasn’t the sound of his fall, nor Hyde’s footsteps approaching him, but the sound of distant sobbing. It wasn’t Hyde. It could only be him, releasing his helplessness, his fear.

No secrets could be kept here.

Sometimes, honesty was the worst thing one could experience.


	28. Chapter Twenty - Seven

Before Hyde’s time was over, Rilon was let out, but in the most awkward of places.

He stood before the front door, his hand holding loosely onto the handle. Whether Hyde had been leaving for the night to do whatever he pleased, or whether Hyde was letting Rilon out on purpose so he couldn’t worry the rest of the Arlett family, he didn’t know.

He turned, facing toward the interior of the house.

_Who lived here? Whose house was this?_

He needed to hurry outside before panic set in and before anyone figured out what was going on.

He hurried outside and quickly shut the door behind him, rushing down the stairs toward the London street. He did not spare the house even a glance when he broke into a run, hurrying toward the larger buildings, to when the houses became more sporadic in number and gave way to the main part of London.

He was the only footsteps running upon the cobblestone street. It was too early for anyone else — early morning at least. With regret, he wished he had a watch to time himself, to time how much lost time he had.

That wasn’t a likely fact. It wasn’t likely to be a reliable thing. Hyde was smarter than that. He was clever. He could break the watch, lose it, or change the time entirely.

He was too great a liar.

Where was he?

Rilon startled himself out of his self-induced trance. He was in London, but everything was a blur. He had been running blindly, with no attention being paid to where he was headed.

He'd been sprinting about in a blind panic, with no thought of where he was going. It had all been a feverish run.

Hyde could not come out this soon. Rilon had only regained his consciousness.

Yet, Hyde's time wasn't completely up. From the fading thought in Hyde's mind, it was only the third of January. Both alters had advanced in age by one year and it had slipped both their minds.

_Twenty-five. What a time to be alive, eh, Edward?_

When there was no immediate reply, Rilon shrugged, and slowed his pace to a walk, only to be stopped by a familiar obstacle.

It was still all a blur, but Rilon could make out the outline of marketplace stalls. A small marketplace, spanning only a few hundred feet, but a huge block in Rilon's mind, something obscuring him from proceeding further.

_Goddammit_.

The one childhood memory he refused to cede control of.

He pushed through the invisible barrier with a slight effort. It was more of an effort, however, to keep the memory from surfacing in his mind.

He wanted to chide himself for not bringing along his glasses, but deep in his mind, he knew that he was lucky that he could not see.

Getting through the other side was easier than he realized he would. The breath that has left him in his panic now suddenly returned to his lungs.

Rilon lifted his head to state at the sky as he walked, how it began to turn a bright shade of red as the sun rose. It gave him the signal to quicken his pace, the reminder that he would soon be in a crowd of people, that he would not be alone.

But was he ever truly alone?

There was always someone questioning his every move, his every thought, controlling and messing around with the doubts in his mind.

Then he lowered his head, uttering a grown to himself. How far had Hyde walked? It hadn't been far from the city square, had it? He wanted the answer to that question but found that he couldn't grasp and hold it without it slipping out of his fingers like a bar of wet soap.

Rilon shuddered at the comparison, regretting that he made it in the first place, and stared at the cobblestone street, noting patterns and irregularities; he almost thought that there could be equations hidden within them — the length of the road, the average amount of cobblestones per inch, per foot, or per mile that he walked. The counter the buildings he could make out, averaging their size, color, and shape to keep his mind busy. They grew taller as he began to reach the Tower, and Rilon knew then that his mind had not failed him.

For once, he smiled when the Tower loomed over him, a tall, dark beacon of safety that stretched as tall as the eye could see. The sight of it filled Rilon with a renewed strength, dashing the rest of the length of the cobblestone walkway until he stood at the Tower's glass doors.

Making another effort, Rilon pushed them open and was met with a sudden blast of hot air that nearly threw him back out into the cold.

“_Dobroye utro, p'yanitsa_.” He knew the person from the nickname. “Did you have good break?”

His silhouette was outlined by the first days of the dawn light. Rilon could tell that wasn't wearing his usual robes, but rather a formal suit of dark blue or black. His hair was ruffled, a mess from neglect of care, or more likely lack of sleep. He held a paper in his hand, upon for Rilon to see. It was a blurred mess of words and, without glasses, was more of a headache to read than Rilon wanted to bear.

“I asked question, Arlett.”

Rilon ignored him, walking toward the elevator beside the stairwell. He pressed a button, and while he was waiting, the man joined him.

“You going to ignore question?” He waved the papers in Rilon's face. “How was break?”

Rilon snatched the papers and stared at him, giving a contemptuous reply. “Fine, Luca.”

The door to the elevator opened, giving way to an empty car, but that did not deter Luca from following Rilon, not even in the slightest.

“Do you have to follow me?”

“Yes,” Luca looked over his shoulder; Rilon fought back the urge to slap him in the privacy of that elevator. “I have to get to my office, and finish reports.”

“Reports?” Rilon stared at him, pointing on the paper in his hands. “For the unknown chemical found in those victims?”

“And in you. I read your blood work back at hospital few years back. You lived, fought it off with no ill effect.” He took the papers back from Rilon and scanned them himself. “Do you know why that is?”

Rilon looked away. “No,” he lied.

“You do, and I know it.” Luca grabbed hold of his shoulders and turned him to look him straight in the eye. “Not fully human, Arlett. I reminded you and you no listen.”

“How does that correlate with my bloodwork?”

“You lived when they did not. Do you not see what I mean? No ill effects from you, only the slightest personality changes, but that could be age-related. Do you have any —”

“Luca,” Rilon brushed off the man's grip. “You're crazy.”

“The first death was reported the day you got home from hospital. Same day.” The paper crumpled in his fist, the first sign that a rebuke was surely on its way. Mentally, Rilon braced himself and turned back to stare at the elevator buttons, willing it to go faster so he could get away from this… delusional idiot. “It is not coincidence, Arlett.”

“Do not call me Arlett.”

There was a pause as Luca gathered himself. He fixed the papers with an exasperated sigh and read them once over before he spoke again. “Why you not look like yourself?”

Rilon quickly formed a lie, and it came to his mouth faster than he would have liked. “Can't I just, change for a while?”

“You're not wearing black, but rather red. You have your hair down. Biggest thing is no glasses. I know you, Arlett. You're farsighted — there no way you could have made it home by yourself.”

“Are you going to question my every move now, Luca?”

“No,” the man replied, seeming to deliberately avoid his gaze. “I just find it strange, _p'y_ —”

Rilon whirled around and pressed a finger to the man's lips, cutting him off before he could say anything.

“Call me that one more time, and I'll have my brother remove you from office.”

The elevator door opened before either one of them could come up with a proper reply. Luca's face was pulled into a mixture of contempt and amusement. He held the paper close to his chest and left the elevator car first.

Where had he taken them? It surely wasn't the tenth floor — they would have been there by now had they'd gone to the tenth floor. They surely weren't anywhere near the Council offices. They were much higher than that.

Rilon felt his heart go into his throat.

Luca's words were part of a bigger ulterior motive, were they?

Unlike the rest of the Tower floors, these floors were dark, gray, dismal… Uninviting. Subconsciously he knew what this place was. Hyde was reaching out, finding him as his distress rose. How desperate he was for a change, but not here, behind Luca.

Although his back was facing Rilon, he knew who was following him, and a change to Hyde would only make his suspicions rise more than Rilon was comfortable with.

Hyde reeled back, spitting, as Rilon realized what this place was.

This was Institution.

“Luca,”

The man turned to face him, and Rilon could see knowing flash within his gaze. “This is... Distressing.”

It was not a question he asked, though it was formatted like one.

Rilon could hear the whispers of those lost in his ears. There were those who cried out from behind the bars for those long lost, the people who have committed crimes and atrocities great enough to challenge God himself.

“Are you playing God, Arlett? You think being inhuman has given you upper hand?”

“You...” The oddness of his surroundings struck him like an arrow. He smiled mockingly at Luca. “You aren't real. _This isn't real_. I never left the elevator. I never pushed the button to go.”

He reached out, grabbing the lapels of the very-real Luca's jacket. He pulled himself out of the dream and back into the privacy of the elevator.

He pushed Luca away, backing against the wall, his breath heavy.

“Are you alright, _p'yanitsa_?” The voice was genuine, not detached from reality. “You were talking to yourself.”

“Yeah, yeah. I'm fine.” Rilon dismissed him.

Luca flashed him a look of skepticism and concern. “You sure?”

Rilon nodded, catching his breath. He stared at the floor number, which was just above the doors and sighed. Still the tenth floor.

“Luca, I know you've forgotten,” Rilon piped up just before they reached the tenth floor. “I know you've moved on. You must think I'm done sort of lunatic for talking to myself and being the biggest idiot on the planet.” Rilon knew he was rambling, spitting out words he didn't even know he was saying. “I know you pushed our time at University together to the back of your mind, and that's understandable, but I'm getting the feeling -”

Luca interrupted him in the least expected way. It was a move of frustration, of pent up, repressed feelings. He pulled Rilon forward by the lapels of his coat and kissed him.

This couldn't have been right. He was still hallucinating. He was still trapped in a reality that his mind had conjured up, playing on old affections of Luca, subconscious affections that were somehow still there.

So, Rilon decided to go against his instincts, his panicking heart slowing toward its regular pace. He felt his breathing slow as well.

Was this the beginning of another panic attack?

There was no time to answer, for he was so in the moment that he hadn't realized that the elevator door opened, exposing the two of them to any unwanted attention.

Rilon abruptly pulled away, feeling euphoric. It was only short-lived, however, when he did take notice of the elevator door.

He shook his head and laughed, his breath coming in shudders. “Oh, look at that.”

“What?” Luca was fixing his jacket; Rilon caught even the faintest smile as he turned back to stare at him.

_What do I really… need on this floor?_

Everything made him so giddy — he never thought he would like such a thing. Romance was such a... useless thing. He had never felt romantic feelings, never before in his life. He was that one thing he'd never learned the word for, and assumed was normal.

However, Luca had been one to stir up these old feelings left behind, even switch on some abnormality within Rilon. Some weird feeling that had always set his mind in a frenzy, unable for him to speak right.

Inspecting his thoughts, Rilon hesitated to leave. Eventually and quickly, he decided against it, heading toward the elevator and pressing a button to close it. As it did, Rilon rushed back to Luca, embraced him, and kissed him, out of the sight of prying eyes.


	29. Chapter Twenty - Eight

“Jeez, can your hair get any more tangled?”

“I’m sorry that I’m who decided to grow it out so long,” Jackie complained, ruffling the frills on the sleeves of her dress, and scratched at the collar. “Don’t judge me, when you have long hair yourself, Rilon.”

Rilon sniffed in amusement, lowering the hairbrush to his desk. “Do you want your hair down or up?”

Jackie tousled her hair about, and for a moment Rilon felt as though she wasn't going to answer.

“I'll keep it down.” She turned around in the desk chair, smiling with a particular felicity that he'd never seen in her, or rather anyone. “Who is Asiah marrying anyway?”

“Well, I don't,” Rilon paused, scripting his words mentally before saying them. “Know… how do I explain this? So you know the Vice President?”

“Amil, yes. He's marrying him?”

“Well, yes.”

Rilon smiled brightly as she stood up in the chair, towering over him with enthusiasm. “So two uncles?”

“Yes,” Rilon picked her up from the chair, then lowered her to the floor. “Exactly the point.”

He paced away from her, to the countertop to pick up a white flower crown, then back to set it upon her head. “And you are the defining point of all this.”

“I throw flowers.” The enthusiasm left her face, and this Rilon felt his own flush with embarrassment. “How is that a defining point?”

“First person to appear after my brother and Amil. I’d say that... that is a defining point.”

“Right.” She opened her mouth to say more, but her own brother, Luca, entered from the bedroom wearing a light blue tuxedo. “I stand out. I look like a raven in the snow.”

“Alright.” Jackie snickered.

“But at least I don't look like a _fucking_ snowflake.”

“Language, Luca.” Rilon butted in.

“I'm fifteen.”

“And what's your point? You being a teenager doesn't mean you're allowed to swear, Luca.”

“You're not my dad.” Luca protested.

Rilon narrowed his eyes and turned to face his son. “Am I?” He asked. “_Am I, Luca_?”

Luca pulled a face and stuck out his tongue, but said nothing.

“Am I allowed to come in yet?” There was a quick knock on the door.

“Not yet, Averin.” He'd almost forgotten that he'd left the older Luca behind the door. “You're still grounded.”

“Grounded? What is this... _grounded_ bullshit?” Other Luca knocked at the door in a hurried panic. “What takes you so long?”

“Both of you,” he turned to his children. “Go find Asiah or something.”

Jackie leaped off the chair and ran to the door, throwing it open. Younger Luca shot her a look, shook his head, and followed after her, although significantly more slowly.

“Averin.”

Luca watched as the two disappeared down the hall, then leaned against the frame of the open doorway. There was no emotion upon his face, except for a visible smirk, which faded quickly as Rilon turned to stare at him. He was wearing a navy blue suit, formal as usual, but no vest, as if he’d just thrown on whatever he’d found in the closet in a hurry. His messy hair was even further proof of that.

“Arlett.”

Rilon turned back toward his desk and fixed back his hair back and his glasses. A smile forced its way to his face, one he couldn't repress, one he couldn't force back. Rilon nervously adjusted his glasses, then went to his desk, sorting through his papers in a blind panic. His panic was only helped by muttering under his breath, which was mostly meant to stall more than anything else.

He was only interrupted when Luca cleared his throat, shifting against the doorway so that he fully stood. “Well,” he said. “If we don't leave, we're going to be late. Brother won't wait for you.”

“That is... Exactly right.” Rilon laughed, turned, and strode over to the man, who lowered his head to avoid his gaze. “But can't we procrastinate… a little longer?”

“Arlett, it's your brother's wedding.” Luca's tone dropped. “Are you really stalling yourself against social gathering?”

Although Rilon shook his head, Luca quickly saw through the lie. His voice was quiet.

“Listen, Arlett, maybe it won't be so bad. Maybe it won't be so bad if you just get out there and talk to people.”

“Maybe.” Rilon muttered.“But,” he reached over and fixed Luca's jacket, noting how the lapels had fallen out of place and were no longer symmetrical. “We’ll just have to wait and see when we get there, shall we?”

He lightly tapped his nose after, chiding him. “You need to fix your hair. You can't have a rat's nest at a wedding.”

“No, we are not fixing my hair. It… it is fine.”

_For that rare occasion_, Hyde was cackling. _Poor Arlett. Social gatherings aren't very fun, are they?_

It was weird to hear two of the same voices on different sides. Rilon knew deeply that Hyde had kept quiet to avoid confusion between the voices, even though Rilon could tell that Luca's accent was more Slavic in nature and Hyde only spoke in Rilon's first language. Hyde thought he was dumb enough to be fooled somehow.

_That ignorant twat._

“Fine,” Rilon backed into the room, back toward the desk, his hand searching for the hairbrush that he had left there. “Maybe, I'll leave your hair as it is.”

His hand seized the hairbrush handle, and he suddenly smiled. Luca's eyes lit in fear.

“You little — you didn't.”

“I did.”

Luca lurched backward in surprise, darting out of Rilon's reach. “I thought I said no, Arlett.”

“Do I take that as an answer?”

“Arlett,” Luca grabbed Rilon's wrist, forcing him to drop the hairbrush. “My hair is fine.”

Rilon still smiled. “Do you think my brother will like it, you showing up unprepared.”

From Luca's reaction, Rilon knew he had cornered him.

Luca snarled, and bent down to pick up the brush, only standing to comb his hair out of it's tangled mess.

“I warn you — it will be back when we get there, Arlett.” Luca dropped the hairbrush when his hair was free of tangles. “Dry heat makes hair frizz, idiot.”

“I’m a doctor, not a hairstylist, Luca.”

Luca didn’t smile. His lips were drawn into a thin line, showing no expression. Faintly, though, Rilon could hear an almost purring noise coming from his throat, almost as if he were a cat. He tapped Rilon’s nose as Rilon had done to him, then smiling and running out of the room.

“Oh, you utter fool.” Rilon shook his head, sighing loudly. “You utter, _stupid_ fool.”

* * *

The President’s wedding had almost always been held in the garden, with the exception of a few for most special reasons.

Asiah’s, though small, was no small matter. Though few people showed up, as it was private, Rilon knew that it had taken weeks, possibly months to plan. Rilon knew however that he had planned ahead some years, as that was how his brother was, and had been more often.

It was held at dusk, the center of the garden, lit only by a few warm lights to set the mood. Rilon stood on the right side of the aisle, behind his brother. It had started out slow, but when the two came to walk upon the red carpet — a makeshift aisle — it began to go as planned. Jackie entered after them, throwing petals behind them, light and white, covering the aisle as though in snow. She was smiling, although upon closer inspection, it was a forced one — she did not enjoy being here.

She had stopped in the middle of the aisle, and Rilon once thought she was panicking and nearly rushed from where he was standing to help her, but her brother got up from a chair and pushed her to the end, where they both sat beside Luca in the front row.

Rilon covered his mouth as the two said their vows, then hid his face to not show the crowd that he was about to cry. He felt emotional, knowing that he was never going to do this.

Silently, he then excused himself to sit down, feeling his anxiety was no longer able allowing him to stand, crossing his arms and hiding his emotions as both his brother and Amil walked back down the aisle to disappear into another part of the garden.

It was then time to tidy up, and they tidied up quickly, feverishly. Time passed quickly from then on, as the small reception began, a smaller affair with only about a dozen or so people, mostly people from Amil’s side of the family.

It only lasted a few hours, into the early morning. Jackie and younger Luca departed with promises to not get lost along the way. It was hard for them to do so unless their curious minds forbade them obeying Rilon’s specific orders.

Rilon did not talk much after the two had departed, except small words to Luca, and maybe a small, nervous and stuttered out conversation with Amil’s mother, Azra, who spoke nothing but honest words and congratulated Rilon on his brother. Out of earshot of his brother, she had remarked about Averin, and how he had been doing nothing but staring at Rilon upon his breakdown, how worry had flashed in his eyes.

Rilon, although feeling bad for doing so, lied and said that Luca was no more than an acquaintance, a college friend that he had brought along as he had nobody else but him and his children.

Azra, however, insisted, and stopped, smiling brightly when Luca had come beside him. She departed, wishing him luck, and leaving Rilon blushing with emotion like a fool.

Luca had been curious to know what she’d been saying, although, from the look of it, he had heard every word.

The two did stay long after everyone had departed, the only ones there. Though tired, and though there was no music to be heard except for the birdsong, the two danced like swans upon a lake, reveling in the intimacy and each other’s affections.


	30. Chapter Twenty - Nine

  
From then on, Rilon and Luca kept their affair hidden in relative secrecy. Any trysts, any pre-Council meetings, anything that was regarded as them being together was brushed under the rug or dismissed as some rekindling of friendship.

As for Hyde, Rilon knew he shied away when Luca was around, but he didn't shy away completely. He had his own life to attend to, whether it be with Alva, Ottawa, or on his own.

Yet that life, however appeasing it was to Hyde, it was a detriment to Rilon. He would often wake up in Hyde's bed, smelling like smoke, or covered in blood.

The meetings that he often attended were about the latter topic, and for the next year or so, that was the main topic brought up.

Rilon thought he would never hear the end of it.

He recalled leaving one meeting feeling quite frazzled. Luca was beside him, muttering curses in his own language that Rilon didn't need to translate to know.

“They need to put this to rest. I'm tired of hearing ‘_murder this_’ and ‘_arson that_’. They need to get thing done and done now.”

Rilon nodded, too exhausted to agree verbally. He noted from earlier how close the murders had become to the Tower, how Asiah had personally called Rilon out on his connections to those people, accusing him of the murders. His words were slurred, but whether that had been because Rilon had been tuning him out or that Asiah's words had simply been that way, Rilon didn't care to know.

However slurred the words had been, Rilon wanted to retort, but he couldn't, as the words had caught in his throat.

He wasn't risking Institution by opening his mouth and speaking the truth, but keeping his mouth shut was a treasonous act in itself.

“Are you alright, Arlett?” Luca stopped him as he was heading up the stairwell. “You're not yourself.”

_Truth be told, I'm not._ Rilon wanted to say but didn't. _I've never been myself._

_You're living a lie, Averin_. Hyde was hissing, spitting; he was mad that he couldn't be let out when he wanted. His wanting sent a small, tingling agony down Rilon's arm. He held onto the railing tightly, dizzy.

“I suggest you get some rest.” Luca broke into his thoughts. “This stress. Stress will kill you.”

A nervous laugh was Rilon's only reply. That in itself was enough of an answer for Luca to back away and turn around.

“I'll send one of your children to check on you.” He said, “If you need me, tell them.”

Rilon didn't nod; he showed no sign that he had heard the man. He only heard Luca's footsteps retreat away into the hallway.

When he wanted to reply, it had been too late.

Rilon shook his head and headed quickly up the stairs, making sure once or twice that he was truly alone. He heard no footsteps but got the strange sensation that made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.

* * *

On the ninth floor, his suspicions grew worse. Once again, he whirled around in a blind panic, checking the bottom of the flight.

Still, he didn’t find anything strange, but the uncanniness of the situation made him feel more strange.

He felt sick. He felt tired.

Couldn’t he just get home without incident?

Rilon seized the bars of the stairwell, his internal panic too great, making bile rise in his throat and threatening to choke him.

He was reminded of that time in the alleyway when Hyde was new. His panic had been so great that he had felt no other emotion than that. The instinct was to protect himself, but from what perpetrator?

He collapsed upon the steps and covered his mouth with one hand, breathing heavily. The world shrunk to just him and his panic. He didn’t like it. He wanted out.

This wasn't Hyde's making. This was his own.

He hadn’t had an attack in years. He had prevented the attacks, using whatever measure he could, but that didn’t work. He felt faint. He felt sick. He was cold. Everything hurt.

Oh God, he couldn’t _breathe_.

He was going to die here. He couldn’t die here.

_Please let me rest._ Rilon curled up, clutching the back of his head, pulling his hair down, entangling it in a mess. _Please don’t let me die here. I can’t die here. God, don’t let me die here._

He wanted someone to be there to reassure him. But what could they say to make him better? Nothing could make him better. It wasn’t a simple thing that made his depression and anxiety go away. It was way too complex of an equation, and he didn’t want to figure it out.

_Someone, anyone. Please. Please let me out of here._

_I would let you,_ Hyde said suddenly, startling his consciousness and allowing reality to come back to him.

_But... I'm having too much fun. Watching you is quite entertaining, Arlett… don't you think?_

Rilon spat through bared teeth, his breath still heaving. “I would rather it be you than me.”

_Oh, I'm sorry._ Hyde's voice was as sickeningly sweet as it had been in the mind space.

“_Please_.”

_This is your own doing, Rilon. I'm just here to watch._

Rilon struggled to his feet, clutching onto the railing for support. His panic had eased slightly, but that didn't mean it was gone completely. His heart still pounded in his chest, threatening to break out of its cage.

“You wouldn't happen to, be able to get out, would you?”

_You're too panicky. Plus... It's fun watching you._

Rilon began to drag himself upward, clinging to the stairwell. He didn't like how unsteady he felt. His legs were practically nonexistent.

He collapsed in the corner, where the two stairwells converged. There was no strength in him to continue up.

Helplessly, he stared upward. The stairwell seemed so steep and looming now, it's gray and white shades making it seem like a mountain.

His arms tingled, numb and weak. He felt utterly useless, nothing. Just a pathetic excuse left there to rot.

“Hey, Ri?”

When a hand was placed upon his shoulder, Rilon reeled, spitting. “**_Don't touch me_**!”

He held his hand out defensively, although he knew that the assailant meant him no harm.

“It's just me, Rilon.”

_Asi, Asi, Asi. Brother. Mein Bruder. Das ist mein Bruder. That's my brother_.

Rilon took a minute to state at Asiah, processing who he was and how he'd gotten there so quickly.

_You don't have to tell me twice_. Hyde yawned. _That's definitely the idiot of the family standing before you._

Rilon deliberately ignored him. There was another pause and more processing before he spoke again.

“Asi.” His breath shuddered. “I thought you had things to take care of.”

“Amil's taking care of that. I came up to check on you.” Asiah brushed away hair that had fallen into Rilon's face. “Also I found this on the stairs. You dropped it.”

Rilon snatched the hair tie out of Asiah's hands as he held it out, holding it close to his chest as though it were some precious treasure to him.

“Are you going to go upstairs or do I have to carry you up?”

Rilon held the back of the railing as he stood. His heart was still in his throat, making him struggle for breath, but otherwise, he was fine. He held out his hand as he nearly tripped.

“I'm _fine_.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Absolutely sure?”

“Asi,” Rilon's voice sharpened, tense. He hadn't wanted to let Hyde out before, and he was sure his panic had prevented such a thing, but now, when his brother was being a complete arsehole, he wanted to. “I'm fine. If you ask me if I'm sure one more time, I'll kill you.”

Asiah laughed, but it was a humorless laugh. He brushed his hair back and repeated, “Are you absolutely, _positively_ sure that you're going to be fine?”

Rilon, who now stood on the bottom of the steps leading to the tenth floor, shot him a burning glare and snarled. “Shut the fuck up, Asiah.”

This time, Asiah's laugh was genuine. Rilon could see the glee in his eyes as he joined him, making sure that he was, in fact, going to be fine.

In relative silence, the brothers headed slowly up the stairs. Asiah caught Rilon as he stumbled, and yet again, he was shoved away with the same reassurance.

“Didn’t I say not to touch me, Asiah?”

“Yes, but don’t I have a right to be worried about my own brother?” Asiah retorted. He sighed through his nose, hiding his face and then giving a muffled, “Dammit.”

“Dammit is right, I shall say.” Rilon felt his formality change like he was not in control of his own body. It felt as though he were under the influence of a mind-controlling drug, under the influence… of…

He was on the other side of a forged memory.

“Dammit.”

It was the only word allowed by Hyde before his influence resumed again.

“They could be hiding right under your nose and you don’t know it.” He said, rushing to the top of the stairs and standing over the President like an almighty being. “It could be me, for all you know, dear Asi.”

_Cut out that ‘dear’ crap. Scheisse…_

For all Hyde cared, he wanted to split them up to get Asiah out of the way. He had long since figured that Hyde could only murder people without hesitation if they had wronged Rilon hin some way or another. It could be words, it could be actions, it could even be as simple as Rilon’s reaction, even if it has been a false one. Rilon put thoughts into the back of his mind, blatantly refusing to believe that he would think such sick things. Hyde’s duty was to find them and act upon them.

He wanted that now. He was acting upon a personal grudge against his brother. Hyde knew that Asiah wanted the murderer dead on sight, but wanted Asiah dead before he could get to him. It was a game. Hyde was having fun, not caring for the sanity of his other side. It was ruining Rilon, but Hyde was stuck and too far gone in his world of euphoria to care.

“No reply?” Rilon — or rather Hyde — tilted his head and smiled. The reaction he got out of the President, the shock he got, was rather pleasing. “Dear brother.”

The President rushed up to meet him, seething, but Hyde had then let go of Rilon, who collapsed to the floor.

“Rilon, stop spitting shit and telling me what’s going on.” How tense Asiah was told Rilon that he was not happy, no matter how flat he kept his words. He knelt in front of Rilon, and when Rilon lifted his gaze, he could see how angry his brother exactly was.

“I suggest that you don’t touch me.” Rilon began to shake. “I don’t want to hurt you, Asi.”

“I’m not trying to, Rilon. Please tell me what the fuck is going on.”

“Well, maybe I don’t want to.” Hyde smiled, watching the President’s gaze grow uneasy. “You should look closer, and maybe you’ll see.” He vaguely indicated his eyes, which would have changed color with the personality, but the President didn’t appear to be looking close enough.

“Under my nose.” The President stared at the floor, briefly losing himself in his thoughts.

This was Hyde’s chance. All it took was a little push over the edge.

The President yelped, grabbing onto the cuffs of Hyde’s jacket, but that was not enough. The cuff tore, The President’s only handhold failing, and he crashed to the bottom of the steps, where he lay there, ominously still.

“Asiah.” Rilon startled out of his trance to see what he'd done and started shaking once again. His brother lay on the floor, ominously still on his face.

“Asi?” He crawled forward, peering over the edge, waiting for a reaction. When there was none, his shaking grew worse, grew to a feverish pace. He wanted to cry. “Asi.”

Someone could survive a fall down the stairs, so why wasn't his brother moving? What had he done?

Carefully, he slid down the stairs to check. There was a small pool of blood on the floor where his brother lay, which only worsened his fear. He rolled Asiah's body over, and leaped with surprise when his brother seemed to suddenly revive, and leaped up to grab him by his collar in a stranglehold. His hands were covered in blood, mainly from a decently sized gash on his palm, and left spatters upon his as well as Rilon's clothing.

“_What the hell was that for_?” His breath was heavy and his teeth were bared — he was practically spitting blood as well.

Rilon saw spots along the edge of his vision when his brother shook him. He was unable to breathe, but this wasn't from panic. Asiah didn't seem to realize this until Rilon didn't reply, and his grip loosened, his hands dropping to the floor with a sigh.

Yet his anger didn't leave.

“You pushed me down the _fucking_ stairs.”

It was only then that Rilon realized that one of his shirt cuffs had been torn, and the missing half lay discarded beside Asiah. He must have grabbed onto it but found that it wasn't going to keep him up until too late.

Still, whatever deed Hyde had done — or tried to do — had failed. Asiah was very much still alive.

But he was pissed.

“I... I didn't… I didn't mean —”

“Didn't mean what, Rilon? It looks like what you ‘_didn't mean_’ was meant very clearly.” He stared at his hand, wincing. “Dammit. How am I going to explain this? Say it was a fucking accident?”

There were tears in his eyes, rolling down his cheeks. Tears of pain.

“I could… fix that for you. I have a needle and thread.”

“I'm fucking fine, Rilon.” Asiah sobbed. “_Great_. This is _just great_. I have to go home and clean up your mess and make up some fucking _goddamn_ lie to my husband.”

“I told you, I could fix it.” Rilon insisted, reaching out to inspect his brother’s hand. His brother flinched away defensively, his teeth still bared. He clutched onto his injured hand.

“What… all this? A needle and thread and certainly not your fucking doctorate can fix all this.”

He stared at Rilon, his eyes bloodshot and flaming with rage. The smile he gave was full of insanity; a laugh came silently from his throat. “Maybe I was right to accuse you. You certainly seem a bit… deranged, don’t you, dear brother?”

Asiah spat blood and hissed, staring at the floor again. Rilon knew he was only being like this to hide his pain, any guilt. After all, according to Hyde, that was what Lear had done. Lear had faults, like him, but Lear could have been standing next to the devil himself, and even then, Rilon wouldn’t have been able to tell them apart, but Asiah…

He had the right reason to blame Rilon for what he’d done. He’d done it, not some lookalike uncle who had died just for Lear to use some pathetic excuse to ruin his son’s life.

_Damn, I’m going back to Lear again._ Rilon shook his head.

“One last offer: either you let me stitch up your hand or you let it get infected, and you’ll have no hand to use.”

“You _fucking_ bastard.” Asiah laughed maniacally, smiling eerily. “You absolute... fucking... _mother of Christ_. There's no way in hell… that I'm going to… _fucking_ trust you.”

“Fine, let your hand fall off.”

An inhuman snarl came from Asiah's throat. He didn't say anything, but continued laughing, a low huff under his breath that made Rilon question whether he was actually wheezing. He covered his face with his hands, smearing crimson over it as though it were paint.

“Asiah, are you coming or not?”

His brother was sobbing now, falling back on his knees and smiling helplessly. “My God, I'm turning into Lear.”

“No.” Rilon's reaction was immediate. “You're better than that. Our father was… doing what was best for him, and… well,”

He was unable to go on, to speak any longer. He couldn't make excuses for his father, not after what he had done. What he had done had been done. It was all in the past, and, in the end, his fate had been well-deserved, even if he was killed by some bastard, or even by Rilon’s own hands. Hell, Rilon would have killed him himself had he gotten his chance to be conscious.

Rilon would rather drink the deadliest poison in the universe than speak good of his father, regretting the days when he regarded Lear so highly when the days before had been merely a blur, and when even his childhood had been unhappy.

He chose to end the conversation there, stopping any attempts from his brother to change the subject or even start a new conversation altogether. No words could be summoned to either brothers' lips afterward, except for the occasional spitting of pain from Asiah, as he watched his blood leave a crimson trail down the hallway.

* * *

Rilon let his brother shower and change in his bathroom, letting Asiah borrow clothes that fit him closest, a navy blue outfit from when Rilon had been his size, which had been so long ago.

Then he sat on the bed, examining his hand. When Rilon joined him, holding a needle and thread, he held his hand to his chest defensively and flashed him an uneasy glare.

“Asi, please. Let me look at it.”

“You pushed me down the _fucking_ stairs.” The snarl returned to his brother's voice.

“If I did, I didn't mean it.” It wasn't entirely a lie. Rilon himself hadn't meant to do it, but Hyde had, failing to tip the scale and failing to break the bond between the two brothers. Asiah wouldn't see the truth at all, especially in his own lifetime, so Rilon let him stick to his assumptions.

“Now let me see your hand before it falls off.”

Asiah sent him a glare, his eyes still bloodshot, but humor had returned to them. Slowly, he set his hand upon his lap, balancing himself on the bed with the other. The bed creaked as he shifted, and Rilon noted how uneasy he was by the way he had done so.

Rilon took his brother’s hand in his, tracing the gash, which ran diagonally along the length of his palm. Asiah had cleaned it thoroughly, so any signs of bleeding, even minor signs, were not red. Still, the skin around the gash was red, though not inflamed, yet that didn’t mean that Asiah was completely in the clear.

Rilon stood up from the bed, searching through his mind to try to remember where he had put the needle and thread.

_Cabinet_, where he kept literally everything. He turned back to face his brother, but they both said nothing. The message, however, was clear between them, a reassurance that Rilon wouldn't leave, and would, in fact, return. A message of forgiveness passed between them, but Asiah stared down at the floor before the message was fully delivered, as though he were still suffering through a small bout of denial.

Rilon shook it off, sighing. He left his brother alone in the bedroom, heading straight toward his cabinet, where he balanced himself upon the countertop with one hand and searched through each cabinet individually. He wanted to give up when all he found within each one were the usual chemicals that he stored there.

The arm of which he was balancing on failed in its strength and fell limply to his side. With his free hand, he searched the final cabinet. On the bottom shelf, he found something familiar, shiny, and broken. He pulled out a piece and was shocked to find that it was a shard from his mirror.

His heart began to pound in his chest. This was where Hyde kept his weapons.

From his mind came a loud curse from Hyde.

_You’re going to get us caught_. Rilon retorted.

He quickly stashed the shard back in its place, finding the needle and thread upon the top shelf, and slamming the cabinet door shut.

“What was that?” Asiah called.

Rilon quickly came up with a lie, spitting the words that came first to his tongue.

“Found it.”

“Well, what are you hesitating for?”

Rilon didn't reply, shut up by his discovery and somewhat by Hyde as well. He stared at the needle and thread in his hand and began shaking again, but after a moment, shook it off, reassured himself that he was fine, and headed back to the bedroom.


End file.
